,  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 


Jh<>  STOLEH 
OHRONE, 


~ — ty 


GURTHA 


STOLEN 
THRONE 

Herbert  Kaufman 


Illustrate 


CKri$t\ 


MOFFAT^ARD 


Copyright,  1907,  by 

MOFFAT,   YARD   &   COMPANY 
NEW  YORK 


Published  March,  1907 
Reprinted  May,  1907 


To 

Gertrude  Raff  Kaufman 

and 
Belle  Gray  Taylor 


2130622 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  I  Find  a  Strange  Chest    .     .  3 

II.  Sir  Sanders'  Story   ....  21 

III.  The  Duke  Alexis    ....  29 

IV.  I  Find  a  Rose 45 

V.  I  Ride  with  the  Duke  ...  59 

VI.  The  South  Gate  at  Eleven      .  71 

VII.  I  Undertake  a  Mission       .     .  77 

VIII.  Ecarte 87 

IX.  I  Slay  the  Dragon    ....  99 

X.  The  Peril  of  the  Duchess  .     .  113 

XI.  The  Man  with  the  Nose   .     .  123 

XII.  The  Pretender 133 

XIII.  I  Enter  the  Fortress      ...  147 

XIV.  The  Shadow  on  the  Shade     .  157 
XV.  I  See  a  Signet  Ring .     .     .     .  169 

XVI.  My  Friend  the  Captain     .     .  179 

XVII.  What  Whitworth  Found  .     .  191 

XVIII.  The  Man  at  the  Mill    ...  201 

XIX.  The  Mill  Grinds  Strange  Grist  213 

XX.  What  Happened  to  Antsley   .  225 

XXI.  Carma 243 

XXII.  The  Grave  that  No  Man  Finds  261 

XXIII.  Auf  Wiedersehen     ....  273 

XXIV.  The  End  of  the  Dream  287 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Gurtha (Frontispiece) 

"  No  one  ever  took  Antsley  seriously  "    .     10 

"A  dissipated  individual  whom  he  intro- 
duced as  Captain  Helzer"  ...  46 

"  My  sharpened  sword  bit  into  him  while 

he  was  still  falling" 106 

"  Vladimir  Blitzow  was  a  Diplomat;  his 
eyes,  his  mouth,  his  nose  spelled  the 
word" 126 

"  In  her  face  there  was  the  radiance  of  an 
Angel  facing  the  Throne  of  God  "  .  250 


/  Find  a 
Strange  Chest 


CHAPTER  I. 


"I  Find  a  Strange  Chest." 

HEN  will  you  send  for  it?"  I 
asked. 

"I'll  take  it  away  now," 
Wertburger  replied.  "My  car 
is  outside  and  I  can  very  easily 
find  room  for  it.  No,  you  need 
not  bother,  I  can  quite  readily  manage  alone — I 
don't  mind  telling  you  that  I've  already  found 
a  purchaser  for  it,  at  a  handsome  advance  over 
my  investment.  So  you  see,  we've  both  done 
rather  well.  Good  afternoon,  sir." 

"Good-bye,   Wertburger,"   I   replied,   "and 
thank  you." 

I  walked  with  him  to  the  lift  and  then  came 
-back  and  stood  at  the  window  and  examined 
the  checque.    "£5,000."  Yes,  it  was  true ! 

The  dark  space  on  the  wall,  showing  in  con- 
trast against  the  rest  of  the  paper,  certainly 


The  Stolen  Throne 


meant  that  the  portrait  was  gone,  and  the 
checque  was  real  enough. 

"I  wonder  if  he  ever  knew  its  value,"  I 
mused.  These  were  my  uncle's  chambers.  His 
sudden  death  had  brought  me  back  to  London, 
a  month  before,  to  take  possession  of  the  small 
estate  he  had  willed  me.  He  and  I  had  not 
been  very  good  friends  and  in  what  relenting 
spirit  he  had  bequeathed  me  his  few  possessions 
I  never  learned.  At  the  most  it  was  a  modest 
competence.  A  few  shares  of  bank  stocks,  his 
library,  a  little  more  than  a  thousand  pounds, 
and  his  pictures  and  furniture.  It  had  never 
occurred  to  me  that  he  possessed  any  great  art 
treasures.  So  that  Wertburger's  recognition 
of  the  Benjamin  West  came  as  a  complete  sur- 
prise. 

He  had  been  very  honest  in  the  matter,  had 
Wertburger.  He  did  not  seek  to  conceal  the 
real  worth  of  the  painting,  but  at  once  avowed 
its  probable  value.  It  was  his  own  suggestion 


I  Find  a  Strange  Chest 


to  have  Christies'  appraise  the  head,  and  he 
had  given  me  his  checque  without  a  quibble  at 
their  valuation.  It  was  good  to  have  a  bit  of 
the  "ready"  again.  I  had  long  since  made  away 
with  my  mother's  estate.  George  might 
easily  have  assisted  me.  I  doubt,  however,  if  I 
should  have  accepted  any  funds  from  his  hand, 
but  nevertheless,  it  would  have  been  only 
decency  on  his  part  to  make  the  proffer. 
Mother's  open  jealousy,  however,  of  Sir 
Henry's  fondness  towards  his  first  wife's  son, 
had  bred  bad  blood  between  me  and  my  half- 
brother,  and  his  succession  to  the  title  gave  him 
a  long-deferred  opportunity  to  repay  me  for 
her  snubs. 

For  five  years  I  had  found  life  rather  an  in- 
soluble problem.  A  younger  son  is  closely 
-circumscribed  as  to  livelihood.  I  hated  the  law 
as  much  as  I  loathed  the  church.  Trade,  of 
course  was  impossible,  and  so  I  chose  the  one 
avenue  still  open  to  me,  the  stage. 


The  Stolen  Throne 


I  am  aware  that  any  comment  upon  my  per- 
sonal appearance  may  seem,  to  some,  in  ques- 
tionable taste.  Therefore,  I  feel  some  hesitancy 
at  describing  myself,  but  since  this  is  the  nar- 
rative of  a  very  momentous  episode  in  my  life 
and  the  reader  is  naturally  interested  in  all  that 
pertains  to  me,  as  the  principal  figure  therein, 
I  must,  in  lieu  of  any  other  means  of  presenting 
myself,  render  a  brief  description  of  my  per- 
sonality. And  if  it  is  vanity  on  my  part,  to  say 
that  I  was  at  the  time  when  this  story  began, 
possessed  of  a  goodly  share  of  looks,  I  must 
confess  that  it  was  impressed  upon  me  by  the 
different  managers,  under  whom  I  pursued  my 
short  stage  career,  that  my  appearance,  more 
than  any  marked  dramatic  instinct,  prompted 
any  engagements  that  I  was  ever  fortunate 
enough  to  secure. 

The  task  of  the  autobiographer  is  always  a 
thankless  one.  The  narrator  must  face  two 
pitfalls.  If  he  be  self-conscious,  his  sense  of 


I  Find  a  Strange  Chest 


modesty  may  carry  him  to  an  opposite  extreme 
and  thereby  throw  his  figure  into  a  false  per- 
spective, which  disturbs  the  harmony  of  the 
scenes  in  which  he  appears.  If  on  the  other 
hand,  he  regard  himself  as  a  separate  entity 
and  divorce  his  ego  as  an  individual  from  his 
personality  as  it  appertains  to  his  theme,  seek- 
ing to  set  forth  with  an  impartial  judgment,  his 
strength  and  weakness,  rendering  an  exact  ac- 
count of  his  thoughts,  his  emotions  and  his  ac- 
tions, there  are  always  those  who  are  ready  to 
set  him  in  the  pillory  and  hurl  at  him  the  ac- 
cusation of  self-conceit. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  I  have  determined  to  set 
down  what  occurred  exactly  as  it  transpired, 
neither  to  enlarge  nor  belittle,  neither  to  color 
nor  subdue,  the  part  I  was  called  upon  to  play. 

To  resume  the  thread  of  my  narrative  (with 
no  apology  for  a  justified  digression)  I  was  at 
the  time  of  this  event  a  man  nearing  thirty-five 
— tall  even  for  an  Englishman — with  good 


8  The  Stolen  Throne 

chest  and  shoulders  and  a  well  proportioned 
figure.  Except  for  a  difference  in  height  and 
bulk,  I  might  have  been  mistaken  for  the  pres- 
ent Lord  Roseberry — a  resemblance  which  has 
often  been  remarked  upon  by  mutual  friends.  I 
am  a  Staffordshire  Parker  on  my  father's  side. 
My  mother  was  a  Dunning.  So  that  from  both 
parents  I  have  inherited  the  best  blood  of  Eng- 
land. 

At  Oxford  I  was  an  assiduous  reader  of  the 
romance  languages  and  evinced  a  decided  bent 
toward  literature,  but  neglected  to  follow  what 
talent  I  then  possessed.  I  was  neither  a  great 
success  nor  a  pronounced  failure,  as  an  actor. 
I  have  been  told  that  application  and  study 
might  have  lifted  me  to  a  post  of  prominence  on 
the  stage,  but  that  is  entirely  a  matter  of  con- 
jecture and  has  no  part  in  my  tale. 

I  have  always  possessed  considerable  skill 
with  the  small  sword — I  ride  well  and  find 
hunting  and  shooting  pleasing  relaxations. 


I  Find  a  Strange  Chest 


French  and  German,  I  learned  as  a  child  and 
repeated  visits  to  the  continent  have  helped  me 
retain  a  readiness  in  both  languages. 

The  bitterest  experience  of  my  life  occurred 
just  before  my  uncle's  death.  A  very  beautiful, 
but  worldly  woman,  whom  I  had  loved  with  a 
wealth  of  tenderness,  jilted  me  for  a  man  of 
greater  substance,  leaving  me  a  misogynist  and 
almost  a  misanthrope. 

My  fortunes  were  on  the  ebb  when  opportu- 
nity came  in  the  person  of  Wertburger.  It  was 
a  great  convenience  to  possess  such  a  sum 
at  this  moment.  I  was  heartily  sick  of  London 
and  England.  I  had  none  too  pleasant  mem- 
ories to  keep  me  at  home,  and  I  could  now  go 
away  for  a  year  or  so  and  get  a  new  grip  on 
life. 

Yes,  I  would  leave  these  rooms.  They  were 
comfortable  enough  as  chambers  go,  but  the 
prospect  from  my  windows  was  by  no  means 
cheering  to  a  man  in  my  frame  of  mind.  On 


io  The  Stolen  Throne 

the  one  side  I  had  the  Thames  before  me — 
dirty,  sluggish  and  gloomy !  When  I  gazed  out 
of  the  front  rooms,  there  were  a  grave  yard 
and  the  backs  of  old  Strand  buildings. 

There  was  one  compensation.  Ted  Antsley 
lived  on  the  floor  below.  Antsley  pretended  to 
read  law.  He  pretended  at  many  things — sheer 
laziness  kept  him  from  attaining  success  in  any 
direction.  But  then  Antsley  had  no  need  to 
exert  himself.  A  comfortable  income  from  his 
father's  potteries  gave  him  the  opportunity  and 
wherewithal  to  indulge  his  inclinations. 

Antsley  was  five  years  younger  than  myself. 
He  had  started  out  in  the  army  but  one  cam- 
paign in  the  Soudan  dulled  his  leaning  in  the 
direction  of  the  Service.  A  pretense  at  law 
was  his  latest  whim.  No  one  ever  took  Antsley 
seriously.  Even  people  who  liked  no  one  but 
themselves,  usually  found  a  little  spot  in  their 
regard  for  him. 

His  humorous  eyes  saved  him  from  being 


No  one  ever  took  Antsley  seriously" 


I  Find  a  Strange  Chest  n 

ugly.  His  impertinence  rendered  him  a  de- 
lightful companion  and  intimate.  He  knew 
everybody  worth  while  and  a  world  of  impos- 
sibles— and  he  possessed  the  rare  ability  of 
keeping  himself  in  favor  in  the  East  and  the 
West  End  without  giving  offence  to  either 
social  strata. 

He  loved  all  women  and  therefore  never  fell 
in  love  with  any  woman.  He  was  then  and  is 
to-day,  the  cleanest-souled  gentleman  of  my  ac- 
quaintance. If  life  brought  me  nothing  else  of 
worth,  at  least  I  have  always  had  from  him  a 
friendship  dearer  than  brotherhood. 

Wertburger  had  hardly  gone,  when  I  heard 
Ted's  step  in  the  hall. 

"Well,  how  did  you  come  out  ?"  he  asked. 

I  waved  the  checque  before  his  eyes.  "Look 
_  for  yourself,"  I  said. 

"Great!"  was  his  comment.  "Now  you 
can  get  away  with  me.  Where  shall  we  go — 
when  shall  we  start?  By  the  bye,"  he  queried, 


12  The  Stolen  Throne 

"did  you  see  Whitworth's  letter  ?  I  left  it  here 
last  night.  Thought  you'd  like  to  know  how 
Aubrey  is  getting  along.  He's  attached  to  the 
legation  in  Stromburg.  Wrote  me  a  ripping 
fine  note  and  wanted  to  know  all  about  you  and 
the  rest  of  his  old  friends." 

"I  saw  the  letter,"  I  said,  "but  I  didn't  notice 
it  was  open.  Thought  it  had  been  left  in  my 
rooms  by  accident,  and  put  it  away  for  you.  I'll 
get  it,"  And  I  walked  toward  my  desk. 

It  was  a  very  old  affair,  this  escritoire  of  my 
uncle's.  I  have  never  seen  one  like  it ; — a  great 
square  cabinet  the  upper  part  of  which  was 
made  up  of  compartments.  Underneath  there 
was  a  tier  of  drawers  and  besides  these  a  row 
of  shelves. 

"Look  into  some  of  the  other  drawers,  Tom," 
drawled  Antsley.  "You're  always  throwing 
your  papers  all  over  creation  and  then  have  to 
spend  a  month  to  find  anything  you  need." 

But  I  was  sure  where  I  had  placed  the  letter. 


I  Find  a  Strange  Chest  13 

"Perhaps  you  pulled  the  drawer  out  too  far 
and  it  dropped  through,"  he  suggested. 

"But  that's  just  the  point.  It  stops  half  way 
and  then  it  catches  on  something." 

Antsley  came  over  and  began  to  examine 
matters  for  himself. 

"What  a  pretty  piece  of  inlaying."  He  was 
running  his  ringers  over  the  black  and  yellow 
blocks  that  formed  the  bottom  of  the  drawer. 
"Seems  to  be  warped,  doesn't  it?" 

He  pressed  on  the  spot  as  he  spoke,  and  the 
whole  front  swung  outward,  disclosing  a  space 
into  which  a  man  could  easily  pass  half  his 
body. 

Antsley  brought  over  my  study  lamp.  There 
lay  our  quarry  in  the  midst  of  odds  and  ends  of 
_every  description.  But  there  was  one  thing 
that  caught  and  held  my  gaze — a  quaint  old 
metal  casket  secured  with  two  locks,  the  keys 
of  which  were  still  in  them.  The  first  we  man- 


14  The  Stolen  Throne 

aged  to  turn  after  some  trouble,  but  the  other 
key  snapped  off  under  the  strain ! 

"Here,  use  these."  Antsley  handed  me  the 
fire  tongs.  One  smart  tap  knocked  off  both 
hasp  and  lock.  I  drew  back  the  lid.  A  folded 
paper  lay  inside,  and  a  yellow  stained  envelope 
tied  with  narrow  silk  ribbons,  which  fell  away 
in  powder,  when  touched.  Underneath  these, 
I  encountered  a  hoop  of  gold  filigree.  It  was 
studded  with  rough  rubies  of  irregular  size 
and  knobs  of  opal.  In  the  center,  set  around 
with  brilliants  of  blue-white  lustre,  was  a  huge, 
black  diamond.  The  outside  surface  was  con- 
vex and  there  was  an  heraldic  device  carved 
upon  it.  I  made  out  a  tiger,  couchant,  resting 
upon  a  shield,  above  which  was  inscribed: 
"Dulce  est  pro  patria  mori"  A  number  of 
rings,  quaintly  set,  and  about  a  handful  of  loose 
gems  covered  the  bottom  of  the  box. 

The  shaded  light  from  the  lamp  sported  with 
the  fire  of  the  gems. 


I  Find  a  Strange  Chest 


Here  was  an  Emperor's  ransom ! 

It  was  mine — all  mine — a  fortune,  an  inde- 
pendence! Yet  this,  which  once  could  have 
meant  all  and  everything  to  me,  could  now 
have  no  worth.  The  diamonds  were  as  glass, 
the  glowing  rubies  and  sapphires,  the  soft-toned 
emeralds,  and  the  many  tinted  opals,  mere  col- 
ored pebbles.  Fortune  had  clanged  on  my 
knocker  when  the  day  of  her  welcome  was 
gone.  Did  she  think  that  this,  the  tag  of  her 
bounty,  could  recompense  for  the  empty  heart 
which  her  belated  coming  had  left  me  ? 

No !  I  was  not  to  be  bought  upon  such  terms ! 
And  in  an  access  of  bitterness  I  seized  the  royal 
circlet  and  hurled  it  with  all  my  force  upon  the 
hearthstone. 

_-  The  golden  band  bounded  into  the  air  and 
fell  with  one  side  bent  flat.  Something  rolled 
across  the  floor,  striking  the  table  leg  sharply. 
Antsley  picked  it  up. 


1 6  The  Stolen  Throne 

"Why,  you  foolish  beggar,"  he  said,  "You've 
knocked  the  diamond  out." 

He  tried  to  fit  the  stone  back  into  the  crown, 
while  I  stared  unseeingly  through  the  window. 

"See  if  you  can  read  it,"  he  said,  handing 
me  a  faded  and  discolored  scrap  of  parchment. 
"I  found  it  here  in  the  setting,  but  I  can't  make 
out  the  scrawl." 

"It's  in  some  German  dialect,"  I  said,  after  a 
long  scrutiny.  "I  am  not  sure  of  it  all,  but  this 
much  I  can  decipher:  'The  fifth  room  from  the 
northeast  corner,  in  the  lower  gallery  of  the 
cathedral — count  seven  stones  in  the  first  row, 
then  two  to  the  right' ' 

Curious  now  myself,  I  began  to  examine  the 
papers  which  we  had  removed  from  the  chest. 
"The  Parker  will,"  I  cried  suddenly.  "I've 
found  it." 

"Very  interesting,  I'm  sure,"  said  Antsley 
in  a  naggish  sort  of  way.  He  lay  back  on  the 
cushions,  counting  the  rings  sailing  upward 


I  Find  a  Strange  Chest  17 

from  his  cigarette.  "Still,  never  having  heard 
of  the  Parker  will,  I  am  able  to  master  my  emo- 
tion. Who  was  Parker?  What  is  his  will? 
When  did  he  make  it  ?  Why  in  creation  did  he 
ever  lose  it?" 

"Sir  Saunders  Parker,  I  answered  in  tones 
of  quelching  dignity  (one  must  assume  dignity 
at  times  with  Antsley — his  own  family  began 
with  his  father),  "was  my  great,  great  grand- 
father! The  first  Parker " 

"Oh,  I  know,  one  of  the  acorns  that  William 
brought  over  with  him  as  seed  for  the  family 
trees  of  England.  Saved  his  monarch's  life  on 
the  field  of  battle — rescued  a  forlorn  damsel  or 
so  from  the  castles  of  the  most  prominent, 
neighboring  barons — then  went  into  the 
crusade  line  and  carried  the  white  man's  burden 
to  the  far  East,  which  had  burdens  enough  of 
its  own,  without  any  additional  ones  of  British 
manufacture — kindly  skip  it  all,  old  man,  I 


1 8  The  Stolen  Throne 

know  it  by  heart.  Take  a  hurdle  over  the  acorn 
chaps  and  tell  me  about  the  'will'  Parker !" 

"The  'will'  Parker,"  I  answered  crisply, 
"happened  to  occupy  many  offices  of  dignity 
under  his  most  august  majesty,  George  III. 
He  was  thrown  from  his  horse  while  riding  to 
London,  posthaste,  to  offer  his  sword  and  per- 
son against  the  rebellious  American  colonies. 
They  found  him  dead  in  the  road,  his  neck 
broken.  He  had  managed  to  scrawl  a  sentence 
in  the  dust,  which  in  the  first  excitement  of  the 
tragedy,  was  unnoticed,  and  so  all  save  the 

words,  'look  for will 

in  the '  were  trampled  out !  The 

family  searched  unceasingly  for  years,  but 
until  this  time,  all  trace  of  the  document  was 
lost." 

There  was  one  more  paper.  It  was  inscribed 
in  the  following  terms:  "To  my  son,  Henry 
Seton  Parker,  being  a  true  history  of  my  ex- 
periences at  the  court  of  Stromburg." 


I  Find  a  Strange  Chest 


Antsley  settled  himself  back  on  the  cushions 
and  closed  his  eyes.  "Now,"  he  said,  "for  deeds 
of  might  and  daring.  Enter  conspirators  and 
maidens  fair — ho!  for  tales  of  rapier-thrust 
and  love  ballade!  Meanwhile,  may  I  trouble 
you  to  pass  me  a  church- warden  ?" 


Sir  Sanders' 
Story 


CHAPTER  II. 
"Sir  Sanders'  Story." 

HERE  are,  my  son,  two  well 
defined  periods  in  the  lives  of 
most  men.  They  lie  on  either 
side  of  maturity.  Youth,  a 
reckless,  discontented  fool,  hies 
him  away  to  the  astrologer  and 
begs  his  horoscope.  Age,  wise  in  the  knowl- 
edge that  Time's  bounties  are  but  Grecian 
gifts,  wearily  drops  the  tangled  skein  of  the 
fates  and  is  content  with  what  few  poor  strands 
that  can  be  straightened  from  the  mesh.  To- 
night, as  I  sit  telling  the  threads  of  the  past,  the 
fragrance  of  roses  is  wafted  across  the  seas, — 
roses  heavily  odoured  and  bedewed — but  the 
dew  that  jewels  bright  upon  their  petals,  is 
tears , 

"I  had  been  two  years  with  Lord  Lyden  at 
Paris,    when,    through   the   influence   of   my 


24  The  Stolen  Throne 

cousin  Yarmouth,  the  modest  billet  of  minister 
to  Stromburg  was  secured  for  me.  I  would 
fain  have  remained  at  the  gay  French  capital, 
but  disconcerting  rumours  of  heavy  play  and 
violent  dissipation  having  reached  my  father's 
ears,  the  mills  of  the  ministry  were  influenced 
to  grind  forth  my  appointment  to  the  quaint 
little  kingdom  where  I  was  fated  to  pass  the 
rarest  years  of  my  maturity. 

"Marcus,  the  reigning  Duke,  evinced  from 
the  first  a  kindly  regard  for  me,  and  in  time  a 
bond  of  fellowship,  nay,  I  may  even  say  devo- 
tion, grew  between  us.  In  the  third  year  of 
my  incumbency  an  alliance  was  arranged  be- 
tween the  Duke  and  Helga,  daughter  of 
Leopold  of  Haldstadt. 

"They  were  wed  on  Lady  Marga's  day, 
when,  in  accordance  with  immemorial  custom, 
noble  and  commoner  mingled  freely  and  upon 
equal  terms. 

"That  night  I  first  beheld  your  mother,  then 


Sir  Sanders'  Story  25 

a  lady-in-waiting  to  the  Duchess,  and  within  a 
year  I  espoused  her. 

"Fortune  seldom  grants  such  smiles  as  she 
vouchsafed  us.  In  the  palace,  too,  Love  was 
chamberlain,  and  before  two  years  had  passed, 
a  man-child  came  to  round  out  the  happiness  of 
the  royal  sweethearts. 

"A  month  after,  you,  my  son,  were  born. 

"But  this  Eden  of  ours  must  needs  have  its 
serpent  in  the  guise  of  a  Nicholas  of  Holzdon, 
powerful,  unscrupulous,  ambitious,  and  of  iron 
will. 

"Surely — slowly — stealthily,  he  planted  the 
seed  of  discord  among  the  nobles  and  waited 
patiently  for  his  foul  harvest.  Intrigue  over- 
lapped intrigue.  Men  at  first  kept  their  griev- 
ances and  lusts  and  greeds  to  themselves. 
Then,  confidences  were  exchanged  and  in  the 
end,  there  were  regular  assignations  and  open 
plots.  The  very  officers  of  the  household  be- 
came rotten  with  infidelity. 


26  The  Stolen  Throne 

"And  all  the  while  the  duke  dreamed  at  his 
wife's  side,  refusing  to  look  away  from  the 
sunlight  of  his  happiness  to  the  darkening 
clouds  that  were,  all  too  soon,  heavy  to  full- 
ness. 

"At  length  the  night  appointed  by  the  con- 
spirators arrived.  Headed  by  Nicholas  they 
entered  the  palace  and  murdered  Marcus. 

"At  the  same  hour  General  Altman  was 
killed  as  he  lay  sleeping  beside  his  wife, 
and  Count  Muraneff  assumed  control  of  the 
army. 

"By  some  kindness  of  fortune  the  Duchess 
was  able  to  reach  the  legation  with  her  infant 
son.  She  pledged  your  mother  and  myself  to 
the  protection  of  the  child  and  then  entrusted 
to  my  keeping  a  small  iron  chest.  "Within  this 
casket,"  she  said,  "are  state  documents  and  my 
own  jewels.  Beneath  the  black  diamond  in 
the  coronet  is  concealed  that  which  will  estab- 
lish the  identity  of  the  Duke  Andreas.  If  the 


Sir  Sanders'  Story  27 

worst  comes,  promise  me,  by  that  love  which 
you  bore  his  father,  to  take  my  son  to  Eng- 
land and  rear  him  as  your  own  child.  When  he 
shall  have  reached  manhood,  do  you  disclose 
his  parentage  and  tell  him  that  it  was  his 
mother's  prayer,  that  he  regain  the  throne  of 
his  fathers'. 

"After  much  persuasion  we  prevailed  upon 
her  to  remain  under  our  protection — but  dur- 
ing the  night  she  eluded  our  watchfulness  and 
returned  to  the  palace.  They  recognized  her 
as  she  entered  the  gate  and  a  drunken  lieuten- 
ant of  cavalry  sabred  her  in  the  courtyard." 

"A  month  afterwards  (I  having  meanwhile 
forwarded  my  resignation  to  London,  with  an 
earnest  plea  for  its  acceptance)  my  successor 
arrived,  and  I  returned  to  England  with  you, 
my  son,  and  the  young  Duke. 

"But  I  can  write  no  more — memory  is  in  a 
bitter  mood  to-night  and  a  great  heart-sickness 
wells  over  me  and  forces  me  to  cease." 


28  The  Stolen  Throne 

There  was  one  more  page.  It  was  written 
upon  a  different  stock  and  the  handwriting 
showed  another  mood  than  that  which  had  held 
the  narrator  in  setting  forth  the  first  part  of  his 
story.  "The  child  Andreas  I  reared  as  my  own 
son,  until  he  died,  two  years  afterwards.  It  is 
he,  whom  you  have  ever  believed  to  be  the 
brother  of  your  babyhood.  A  Grand  Duke  of 
Stromburg,  he  sleeps  beside  his  mother's  loyal 
friend,  in  this  quiet  English  hamlet." 


I  folded  up  the  papers  and  placed  them  back 
into  the  chest.  Antsley  picked  a  Bradshaw 
from  the  table  and  ran  through  its  pages. 
"Let' s  see,"  he  mused,  "if  we  pack  now  there'll 
be  time  to  fix  up  a  letter  of  credit,  write  a  note 
or  so,  send  a  wire  to  Aubrey  Whitworth,  and 
catch  the  9.45  to-night  out  of  Victoria.  Say, 
Your  Highness,  where  in  thunderation  do  you 
keep  your  telegraph  forms?" 


The 

Duke  Alexis 


CHAPTER  III. 
"The  Duke  Alexis." 

TROMBURG  lies  well  toward 
the  North  of  Europe.  It  is  a 
mountain  Kingdom,  rugged 
and  frowning,  rich  with  timber 
and  mines.  Its  position  is 
strategically  splendid.  Bul- 
warks of  granite  gird  the  land  and  made  it  pos- 
sible in  by-gone  ages  for  its  people  to  hold  their 
own  against  the  marauding  hosts  of  the  earlier 
centuries,  and  afterwards  against  the  land- 
hungry  armies  of  France,  Germany  and  Aus- 
tria. 

The  climate  is  delightful.  The  air  sends  a 
tingle  of  wine  through  the  veins.  It  is  fragrant 
with  the  breath  of  the  balsam-covered  hills. 
In  extent,  it  is  a  small  land,  of  no  great  import, 
except  commercially.  Its  mines  have  recently 
become  famed  for  pitch-blende  and  other  rare 


32  The  Stolen  Throne 

materials,  for  which  modern  science  has  dis- 
covered such  multiform  possibilities. 

There  are  few  cities  in  Stromburg,  but  the 
most  important  of  these  is  the  capital,  which 
bears  the  same  name  as  the  State.  The  city 
was  founded  by  followers  of  Attila,  who  were 
attracted  by  the  defensive  advantages  of  the 
district  as  well  as  the  richness  of  the  low  lands 
along  the  Sarga.  They  built  their  wattle  huts, 
eased  themselves  of  their  weapons  and  settled 
down  to  husbandry  and  hunting. 

Aftertime  the  handful  of  shacks  grew  into 
a  village — the  village  greatened  into  a  town 
— the  town  became  a  city — and  as  early  as  the 
first  teens  of  the  Christian  Era,  Stromburg  was 
reckoned  as  a  State  of  some  magnitude  and  im- 
portance. The  star  of  her  ascendency  paused, 
however,  with  Kaz,  the  Smith,  under  whose 
leadership  the  peasants  waged  war  upon  their 
over-Lords.  His  victorious  arms  added  to  the 
realm,  the  contingent  baronies  of  Wurlitz, 


The  Duke  Alexis  33 

Damnar  and  Marburg.    But  his  successors 
were  men  of  sloth — dullards  and  dawdlers. 
And  so  the  land  has  stood  stock-still  in  its  i6th 
Century  shoes,  a  medieval  kingdom,  upon  the 
very  doorstep  of  ultra-modernity. 

Travelling  facilities  to  Stromburg  are  very 
bad.  Its  inaccessible  location  and  the  difficulty 
of  making  connections  with  the  greater  traffic 
systems,  have  as  yet,  spared  it  from  the  plague 
of  "Cookry."  It  drowses  its  peaceful  life  in 
calmness  and  ease.  The  city  will,  however,  well 
repay  any  adventurous  tourist,  with  its  singular 
beauty  of  location,  and  its  quaintness.  The  tap 
of  the  mason's  trowel,  the  rasp  of  the  carpen- 
ter's saw,  but  seldom  resound  in  her  streets. 
For  centuries,  row  after  row  of  unaltered 
homes  have  stood,  sentinels  over  the  passing  of 
time,  housing  successive  generations  of  fam- 
ilies. Old  rambling  buildings  line  the  narrow- 
est of  cobbled  lanes.  The  soothing  varnish  of 
the  years  has  toned  the  garish  decorations  of 


34  The  Stolen  Throne 

the  house-fronts  into  neutral  browns  and  ma- 
roons. Bright  vermillion  dashes  among  the 
centuried  tiles  spell  occasional  restoration. 
Here  and  there  some  structure  of  a  newer 
school  of  archicecture  flaunts  itself  parvenu- 
ishly,  envying  in  its  heart  of  stucco  and  stone, 
the  fine  old  aristocrats  among  which  it  is  so  in- 
congruously set. 

In  the  very  oldest  part  of  the  town  the 
streets  are  the  original  cow  paths  and  twist  and 
turn  with  a  line  of  direction  that  one  would 
naturally  expect  from  bovine  engineers.  The 
public  fountains  are,  as  of  old,  rendezvous  for 
gossiping  housewives.  The  resounding  whack 
of  wooden  paddles  comes  from  the  banks  of  the 
river,  mingled  with  the  chatter  of  girls  and 
women — (the  stationary  wash-tub  is  as  un- 
known in  Stromburg  as  the  motor  car  and  the 
lift). 

The  guild  houses  are  still  standing  and  the 
old  town  hall,  with  its  inevitable  clocked  tower 


The  Duke  Alexis  35 

lifts  its  gaunt  faces  to  the  heavens  that  have  for 
ages  so  mercilessly  beat  upon  them  with  rain 
and  sun.  There  are  dark  alley-ways  that  lead 
into  passages  from  which  a  stranger  might 
emerge  with  more  difficulty  than  from  a  crystal 
maze.  Bridges  with  crumbling  piers  and 
rotting  piles  stand  everywhere,  although  the 
streams  that  once  swept  under  them  have  long 
ago  dried. 

Horses  are  rare  in  Stromburg,  but  there  are 
dogs  everywhere — great  deep-chested  brutes 
with  the  long  punishing  jaw  of  the  timber  wolf 
and  the  haunch  of  the  Great  Dane. 

There  are  two  Cathedrals  (one  very  ancient) 
and  a  modern  Greek  church. 

The  palace  is  not  far  from  the  great  square 
and  back  of  it,  the  very  oldest  part  of  the  town 
sprawls  along  a  slope  which  stretches  from  the 
river  to  the  edge  of  a  plateau,  on  the  further 
rim  of  which,  towers  a  range  of  shaggy,  fir- 
incrusted  hills. 


36  The  Stolen  Throne 

A  lanky  Englishman  came  down  the  station 
platform  as  we  alighted  from  the  train.  Ted 
dropped  his  Gladstone  and  ran  over  to  him. 

"I'm  bally  glad  you  two  have  come,"  said 
Whitworth,  grasping  my  hand  in  both  of  his. 
"I  haven't  set  eyes  on  Ted  since  the  Soudan 
campaign.  I  say,  doesn't  the  old  rooster 
look  splendid?  We'll  go  straight  up  to  the 
hotel.  Christof  here  will  attend  to  your  bags. 
Oh  no,  it  isn't  far  enough  to  ride, — we  can  foot 
it  in  less  than  five  minutes.  I  took  the  liberty 
of  making  arrangements  for  you  at  the  Con- 
tinental. It's  just  across  from  our  legation." 

Mine  host  of  the  "Grand  Hotel  Continental" 
came  forward  to  greet  us,  uttering  an  effusion 
of  bows  that  threatened  to  unhinge  his  torso. 

He  was  a  very  fat  little  man  with  a  very  thin 
little  beard.  "Goodbye,  gentlemens,  goodbye," 
he  exclaimed  in  welcome. 

Then  he  straightened  up  in  the  pride  of  his 
linguistic  attainments  and  proceeded  to  precede 


The  Duke  Alexis  37 

us  to  our  chambers.  We  faced  the  town-square 
so  that  we  had  a  capital  prospect  of  the  city 
from  our  own  windows. 

Across  the  way  the  Royal  George  lazily 
furled  itself  around  its  staff. 

"Who's  chief  over  at  your  place?"  I  asked 
Whitworth. 

"Burton.  He's  been  here  a  year  now.  I 
joined  him  the  September  after  he  came.  You 
fellows  will  like  him  hugely.  He's  the  bulliest 
chap  in  the  service.  A  bit  of  a  war  cloud  has 
been  focusing  hereabouts,  and  the  powers  that 
be,  sent  him  on  from  Cairo  to  see  to  it  that 
there  shall  be  no  rainfall." 

"What's  the  row — concessions  ?" 

"Yes,  and  no.  The  whole  matter's  a  perfect 
hodge-podge.  I'll  tell  you  the  situation  some 
t>ther  time.  You'll  want  a  snack  now — you 
surely  must  be  famished  after  your  trip." 

There  was  a  riotous  outburst  of  laughter  as 
we  entered  the  public  room. 


38  The  Stolen  Throne 

Mine  host  was  remonstrating  with  a  party  of 
drunken  officers. 

When  he  saw  us,  he  left  them  and  came  for- 
ward, followed  by  a  little  whipper-snapper  in 
the  garish  uniform  of  a  lieutenant  of  cavalry 
who  insisted  upon  continuing  the  discussion. 
He  became  so  annoying  that  I  lost  my  patience 
and  shoved  him  away.  He  reeled  backward 
and,  losing  his  balance,  sprawled  on  the  sanded 
floor. 

Struggling  to  his  feet  he  lurched  over  to  me 
and  shook  his  fist  impotently  in  my  face,  at 
first,  too  violent  in  rage  to  phrase  his  mood. 

At  last  he  found  his  tongue.  "You  have  in- 
sulted me,"  he  cried.  "You  have  insulted  the 
army.  I  demand  an  apology.  My  friends  shall 
wait  upon  you  in  the  morning." 

"So  you  are  insulted,"  I  sneered.  "How 
you  surprise  me.  From  your  manners  I  did 
not  think  that  could  be  possible." 

I  had  piled  Pelion  onto  Ossa.    With  a  snarl 


The  Duke  Alexis  39 

he  drew  his  sabre  and  lunged  at  me.  In- 
stinctively I  side-stepped,  shot  forth  my  arm 
and  caught  his  chin.  He  dropped  to  the  floor 
like  a  wet  sponge.  In  an  instant  I  was  beset  by 
his  companions.  One  hulking  brute,  hurling 
his  heavy  stone  mug,  just  missed  me,  only  to 
land,  however,  upon  the  well-developed  paunch 
of  the  excited  landlord. 

Whitworth  attempted  to  quell  the  tumult  but 
could  do  nothing.  I  took  refuge  behind  a  table 
and  began  to  look  about  me  for  some  sub- 
stantial weapon  of  offense,  when  suddenly  a 
hush  fell  upon  the  room!  Turning,  I  saw  a 
newcomer. 

He  was  a  big,  bearded  man,  whose  bulk  gave 
one  an  impression  of  sturdiness,  rather  than 
stoutness.  His  eyes  were  fishy  grey,  set  in 
-long,  Tartar  slits.  He  was,  I  should  judge, 
about  forty  years  of  age.  The  early  frosts  of 
life  had  tinged  his  temples  with  the  first  hoar  of 
age.  His  nose  was  shapely,  if  large,  and  re- 


40  The  Stolen  Throne 

deemed  from  grossness  by  proud  nostrils  and  a 
good  arch.  His  head  sat  rather  close  to  his 
shoulders;  but  not  unpleasantly  so.  He  wore 
the  picturesque  uniform  of  a  Cossack  com- 
mander,— the  long  tunic  with  spreading  skirts, 
— lending  him  the  hour-glass  figure,  which  is 
characteristic  of  your  continental  army  officer. 

Whitworth  bowed  in  recognition.  The 
"enemy"  saluted  and  stood  stiffly  at  attention. 
The  stranger  glanced  to  the  floor  for  one  in- 
stant and  then  lifted  his  eye  to  Whitworth's  in 
a  quizzical  stare. 

Aubrey  touched  his  arm  and  the  two  stood 
aside  and  whispered  earnestly  for  a  few  mo- 
ments. 

At  the  end  of  their  conversation  the  stranger 
beckoned  one  of  the  officers  and  spoke  to  him 
for  a  moment.  The  man  saluted  and  returned 
to  his  companions.  Lifting  their  still  insensible 
comrade  to  his  feet,  they  left  the  room  in  silence. 


The  Duke  Alexis  41 

In  response  to  Whitworth's  nod  Ted  and  I 
came  over  and  joined  him. 

"Parker,"  he  said,  "you  may  thank  the  Duke 
Alexis  for  a  very  fortunate  outcome  to  what 
promised  to  be  an  ugly  affair. 

"I  fear,  sir,  that  I  have  begun  my  stay  in 
Stromburg  by  making  a  rather  nasty  mess  of 
things,"  I  murmured. 

The  Duke  smiled.  "Do  not  permit  the  inci- 
dent to  disturb  you.  I  know  the  crowd.  I 
heard  the  sound  of  brawling  from  the  street 
and  half  divined  that  a  'military  sortie'  had 
been  made.  Mr.  Antsley,  and  you,  my  dear 
Mr.  Parker,  I  bid  you  good-night — Mr.  Whit- 
worth,  my  respects." 

"Who  the  deuce  is  he?"  I  asked. 

Whitworth's  face  puckered  into  a  grimace, 
"That,  my  dear  Parker,  is  our  friend,  the 
enemy — in  brief,  the  hovering  cloud  of  which 
I  spoke!" 


/  Find  a 
Rose 


CHAPTER  IV. 
'7  Find  a  Rose" 

WAS  surprised  to  find  the  next 
day  pass  without  the  expected 
challenge.  Antsley  (who  is 
nothing  if  not  practical)  bought 
a  pair  of  rapiers  early  in  the 
morning  and  fenced  with  me 
until  noon.  Whitworth  dropped  in  soon  after 
luncheon  and  brought  with  him  a  dissipated 
looking  individual  whom  he  presented  as  Cap- 
tain Helzer.  The  captain  unjointed  his  waist 
for  one  fleeting  instant  in  acknowledgment  of 
the  introduction  and  immediately  resumed  his 
pose  of  nonchalance.  Captain  Helzer  called  in 
behalf  of  his  friend,  Lieutenant  Jansen,  who 
was  somewhat  indisposed  and  therefore  begged 
to  be  excused  from  attending  in  person.  Lieu- 
tenant Jansen  desired  to  apologize  for  his  indis- 
cretion of  the  previous  night  and  trusted  that 


46  The  Stolen  Throne 

the  incident  would  be  erased  from  my  memory. 
I  hastened  to  assure  the  worthy  captain  of  my 
complete  satisfaction,  after  which  the  four  of  us 
drank  so  many  toasts  to  the  individual  and  col- 
lective healths  of  the  party  that  the  "dove  of 
peace"  was  in  the  end  reduced  to  a  condition  so 
maudlin  that  we  were  forced  to  remain  an  un- 
willing audience  to  a  series  of  revelations  which 
would  have  brought  the  blush  of  shame  to  the 
cheeks  of  Don  Juan.  Finally  the  thickened 
tones  became  inarticulate,  then  ceased  com- 
pletely. Whitworth  called  a  carriage  and  per- 
sonally conducted  our  guest  to  his  quarters  in 
the  barracks. 

Ted  and  I  dined  alone  and  after  lighting  our 
cigars,  set  out  to  see  the  city.  We  crossed  the 
square  and  followed  the  first  street  we  chanced 
upon.  It  led  us  to  a  park  where  a  fete  of  some 
sort  was  in  progress.  Suddenly  a  domino 
sprung  from  the  shardows  and  struck  Antsley 
upon  the  mouth  with  a  rose. 


A  rakish  individual  whom  he  introduced  as 
Captain  Helzer" 


I  Find  a  Rose  47 

"Not  so  fast,  my  lady,"  he  cried,  and  began 
pursuit.  She  fled  into  the  gardens,  we  after 
her. 

"Look  out,  Parker,  she's  coming  towards 
you — hold  her!"  I  turned  quickly  and  she 
rushed  fairly  into  my  arms. 

Back  of  the  mask  two  glowing  spots  flashed 
saucily — then  pit,  pat!  came  her  sharp  French 
heels  cuttingly  on  my  ankles — there  was  a 
ripping  noise  and  I  stood  with  a  strip  of  torn 
muslin  in  my  hand.  » 

A  party  of  merry-makers  coming  down  the 
path  opened  up  to  let  her  through,  then  laugh- 
ingly closed  before  Antsley.  When  he  escaped 
from  their  midst  the  girl  had  disappeared. 

"We'll  know  her  by  this  token  of  a  torn 
sleeve,"  I  said. 

"Token  be  damned!  What  were  waists 
made  for?"  he  grumbled.  "I'd  have  held  her 
fast  enough — Gods  of  Rome,  what  a  scene!" 

We  were  probably  in  the  grounds  of  some 


48  The  Stolen  Throne 

palace.  The  moonlight  splintered  in  silver 
sprays  upon  a  noble  pile  of  marble  crowning- 
countless  tiers  of  terraces.  The  snowy  pillars 
caught  the  shimmering  glow  and  gleamed 
creamily  against  a  blue-black  sky  powdered 
with  stars. 

All  around  us  and  as  far  as  the  senses  could 
reach  were  roses — thousands  of  bending 
bushes  that  heavied  the  air  with  their  fragrance 
and  made  of  fallen  petals,  a  carpet  rare  enough 
for  Venus  and  the  handmaidens  of  Olympus. 

Mandolins  tinkled  in  the  shadows — zithers 
twanged — love  songs  trembled  in  the  passion- 
ate air.  From  behind  a  clump  of  Jacqueminots, 
came  softly,  the  ardent,  trembling  plea  of  a 
wooer.  This  was  the  garden  of  the  Loves — 
yonder  the  temple  of  its  mysteries.  I  tumbled 
over  on  the  grass  and  sprawled  among  the 
petals.  A  half-blown  blossom,  swayed  by  the 
lightly  stirring  wind,  swept  rhythmically  across 
my  face  and  as  I  inhaled  its  breath,  a  song  was 
borne  out  into  the  night! 


I  Find  a  Rose  49 

There  dwelt  in  the  dim  and  misty  past, 

Beside  the  River  Sarga, 

A  dragon  drear — 

A  thing  of  fear — 

Who  loved  the  Lady  Marga. 

Oh,  passing  fair, 

And  wondrous  rare 

To  see  was  Princess  Marga! 

The  dragon  swore  he'd  have  for  bride 

Beside  the  River  Sarga, 

The  king's  own  child, 

The  sweet  and  mild 

And  beauteous  Lady  Marga! 

"Bring  thou  to  me 

"For  wife,"  roared  he, 

"The  lovely  Princess  Marga!" 

They  dared  not  rouse  the  dragon's  wrath, 
Beside  the  River  Sarga, 
In  festal  gown 
And  jewelled  crown 


50  The  Stolen  Throne 

Serene  came  Lady  Marga. 

With  naught  of  fear, 

Or  sob  or  tear, 

All  brave,  came  Princess  Marga. 

"Alack,  alas!"  the  old  King  cried, 

Beside  the  River  Sarga, 

"Must  all  ends  fail? 

"Can  naught  avail 

"My  well-beloved  Marga?. 

"Can  sword  nor  spell 

"This  monster  fell 

"And  save  my  daughter  Marga?" 

In  answer  then  the  High  Priest  spake, 

Beside  the  River  Sarga. 

"One  man,  I  ween, 

"May  stand  between 

"This  doom  and  Lady  Marga! 

"Armed  with  a  rose 

"He  may  oppose 

"The  fate  of  Princess  Marga. 


I  Find  a  Rose 


"But  he  who  would  essay  the  task, 

"Beside  the  River  Sarga, 

"Must  first  be  sure 

"Of  soul  as  pure 

"As  that  of  Lady  Mar  gal 

"Then  must  he  lie 

"Him  down  and  die 

"Instead  of  Lady  Marga." 

Forthwith  sprang  Max,  a  goatherd's  son, 

Beside  the  River  Sarga. 

A  rose  of  red 

He  held.    He  said — 

"My  life  for  Lady  Marga!" 

And  straight  he  bore 

Him  to  the  shore 

Where  knelt  the  Princess  Marga. 

The  dragon  came — he  hurled  the  rose, 
Beside  the  River  Sarga. 
"What  wilt  from  me 
"For  this"  cried  she. 


52  The  Stolen  Throne 

"A  kiss,  my  Lady  Marga." 

The  dragon  bore 

Him  from  the  shore. 

"I  die  in  joy,  sweet  Marga!" 

Thus  came  the  joyance  of  the  rose, 

'Beside  the  River  Sarga, 

When  royal  miss 

A  lout  may  kiss, 

As  once  did  Lady  Marga. 

And  none  may  say 

A  word  of  nay, 

For  thus  kissed  Princess  Marga! 

Antsley  scrambled  to  his  feet.  "I'm  going 
to  find  a  Marga  beside  the  River  Sarga." 

"Oh,  go  to  blazes  if  you  want  to !"  I  said  and 
went  back  into  the  joys  of  rose-madness. 

Then  I  turned  and  saw  her. 

She  had  removed  her  mask  and  was  twining 
flowers  in  her  hair.  Spun  gold  it  was,  and 


I  Find  a  Rose  53 

all  alight  with  the  moonbeams  that  came 
down  out  of  God's  heavens  to  fondle  with  and 
play  upon  something  rarer  than  they  had  ever 
known  in  the  skies. 

"Oh,  you  all-beautiful  of  beautiful  women !" 
I  murmured.  "The  gods  are  in  a  kindly  mood 
to-night  and  have  sent  you  to  my  eyes.  They've 
found  the  moulds  with  which  they  cast  Cleo- 
patra and  Helen  of  Troy  and  Dido  and  Thais 
and  all  those  women  who  were  so  lovely  that 
men  still  sing  their  beauty — they've  found 
those  moulds  and  in  the  very  joy  of  the  task, 
they've  cast  and  recast  you  in  every  one  of 
them  until  you  became  the  unbelievable  thing 
you  are !  You  can't  be  real !  You  were  born  of 
the  rose  breath  and  the  rose  blush  and  the  moon 
glow!" 

She  looked  up  and  smiled. 

"Give  me  a  rose  from  your  hair,"  I  pleaded. 

"What!  You  exact  payment  for  your  im- 
pudence ?" 


54  The  Stolen  Throne 

"No,  I  crave  largesse  from  one  endowed  with 
all  the  bounties  of  the  gods." 

"The  gods  were  kind  enough  to  you,  when 
tongues  were  being  recast !" 

"Ah  lady,  your  face  would  call  a  cloistered 
monk  from  his  paternosters  and  start  him 
a-singing  love  ballades ! 

"I  thought  the  troubadours  had  passed 
away." 

"Not  so,  behold  me!" 

"Ah,  fortunate  I,  to  command  Apollo's 
lute!" 

"It  is  the  queen's  due,"  I  answered.  "Queen 
of  Beauty,  Queen  of  Love,  Queen  of  the 
Roses!"  I  continued,  "give  me  one  blossom 
from  out  of  your  abounding  riches — in  Lady 
Marga's  name  I  plead  for  it.  Oh,  if  there  were 
only  a  convenient  dragon  along  the  Sarga !" 

"There  are  dragons  along  the  Sarga,"  she 
murmured  absently. 

"Give  me  the  rose  and  I'll  deliver  you." 


I  Find  a  Rose  55 

"Here  is  your  guerdon."  She  laughed  and 
tossed  me  a  half  blown  bud. 

I  brushed  the  flower  to  my  lips  and,  before 
she  could  prevent  me,  I  clasped  her  in  my  arms 
and  crushed  her  mouth  with  a  kiss. 

Struggling  free,  she  stood,  apanting,  quiv- 
ering fury! 

"Oh,  if  I  thought  you  knew,"  she  hissed  be- 
tween clenched  teeth,  and  went  away  into  the 
night. 

"Sir  Troubadour!"  The  voice  came  from 
the  other  side  of  the  bush — it  was  Antsley's.  I 
found  him  with  the  missing  part  of  the  domino 
which  I  carried  in  my  pocket. 

"Do  you  know  what  you  just  did?"  he 
queried,  lighting  a  cigarette. 

"I've  found  The  Woman!" 

His  match  blew  out  and  he  waited  to  strike 
another  before  replying. 

"Precisely,"  he  said,  "and  by  the  same  token, 
Her  Reigning  Highness,  Gurtha,  Grand 
Duchess  of  Stromburg!" 


/  Ride  with 
the  Duke 


CHAPTER  V. 
"1  Ride  With  the  Duke." 

IATURAL  history  divides  the  ass 
family  into  something  like  four- 
teen groups,  but  makes  no  men- 
tion of  that  large  and  dis- 
tinguished branch — the  human 
ass;  of  which  collateral,  old 
man,  you  happen  to  be  a  distinguished  member ! 
That's  right,  show  your  nature  and  sulk.  Oh ! 
but  you've  made  a  brilliant  fool  of  yourself. 
'Give  me  the  rose  and  I'll  deliver  you.'  That 
from  the  misogynist  of  one  brief  week  ago — 
the  broken-hearted  and  forsaken  one ! — Parker, 
in  the  strictest  confidence,  you're  a  damned 
ass!" 

This  was  at  least  the  dozenth  such  scarify- 
ing screed  to  which  I  had  listened  that  morning, 
after  a  heart-to-heart  talk  the  night  before, 
which  I  had  terminated  by  losing  my  temper 
and  turning  the  key  in  my  door. 


60  The  Stolen  Throne 

"It  was  better  than  a  love  scene  at  the  Drury 
Lane,"  he  went  on,  "my,  but  you  would  have 
brought  down  the  house.  By  Gad,  here's  an 
idea!  Make  it  into  a  'drammer'  and  play  the 
lead.  If  you  could  only  get  the  Duchess  to 
co-star,  you'd  realize  a  fortune.  I  can  see  the 
playbills  now : 


'The  Distinguished  Actor-Manager, 

Mr.  Thomas  Parker, 
Supported  by  Her  Reigning  Highness, 

Gurtha,  Duchess  of  Stromburg, 

In  the  Season's  Triumphant  Success, 

The  Troubadour/  " 


Whitworth  came  into  the  room.  "I  say, 
what's  the  joke?"  he  asked. 

I  darted  a  furious,  withal,  appealing  glance 
at  my  tormentor. 

"I've  a  great  mind  to  tell  him." 

"If  you  do,"  I  whispered,  "I'll  cut  you  for 
quits,  here  and  now." 


I  Ride  With  the  Duke  61 

The  laugh  died  out  of  his  eyes  at  the  de- 
termined note  in  my  voice. 

"Get  the  nags  for  us  ?"  he  asked  Whitworth. 

"Yes,  they're  downstairs  now.  But  what's 
amusing  you  so?  Deuced  piggish  of  you  to 
keep  it  all  to  yourselves.  A  fellow  doesn't  get 
many  chances  to  laugh  among  these  stolid  folk. 
Well,  if  you  won't  you  won't,  so  let's  be  off  be- 
fore the  sun  gets  high." 

We  rode  through  the  town  at  an  easy  canter 
and  set  out  for  the  hills.  The  crisp  air  took  the 
burn  out  of  the  sun's  rays  and  turned  August 
into  October.  We  soon  had  the  city  behind  us 
and  were  among  the  mountains  within  an  hour. 

I  rode  in  silence,  wrapped  in  the  memories  of 
the  night  before. 

I  tortured  myself  with  fantasies  through 
which  there  crept  the  sensuous  fragrance  of 
roses.  I  swore  that  I  would  reach  her,  even 
though  she  were  the  Czarina  herself,  and  even 


62  The  Stolen  Throne 

while  I  deluded  myself  with  these  dreams,  I 
knew  that  I  was  a  fool ! 

But,  having  eyes,  I  refused  to  see.  I,  who 
had  forsworn  love,  who  still  smarted  from  one 
heart-scorch,  was  deliberately  building-  fires 
anew,  upon  which  I  was  to  place  my  soul  itself 
and  perhaps  sear  it  for  all  time. 

Whitworth's  voice  broke  the  thread  of  my 
revery.  "What  do  you  think  of  His  High- 
ness ?"  he  asked. 

"His  Highness, — you  mean — oh — yes — the 
Duke!  Yes,  yes, — that  is — who  in  thunder 
iyhe?" 

"A  large,  sharp,  pricking  thorn  in  the  corps- 
diplomatic's  side.  He's  supposed  to  be  in  com- 
mand of  the  field  maneuvers  of  the  Russian 
Engineer  Corps.  The  Czar's  borders  are  only 
a  few  hundred  miles  beyond  the  range  of  hills 
there.  Two  years  ago  the  Russian  Government 
invited  itself  'by  special  request  of  the  Duchess' 


I  Ride  With  the  Duke  63 

to  hold  a  review  here  and  has  been  reviewing 
ever  since." 

"But  those  officers  the  other  night  were  not 
Russians,"  I  broke  in.  "Uncommonly  queer,  it 
seems  to  me,  his  influence  over  them." 

"The  Duke  Alexis  is  and  is  not.  He  wears 
the  uniform  of  the  Czar  and  is  at  the  same 
time,  potentially  pretender  to  the  throne  of 
Stromburg !" 

This  was  interesting.    I  pressed  nearer. 

"Tell  me  about  it." 

"There's  not  much  to  tell.  Russia  is  trying 
to  get  him  on  the  throne.  France,  Germany, 
and  England  are  determined  to  keep  him  off." 

The  sound  of  horses,  hard  ridden,  broke 
sharply  on  our  ears.  I  turned  in  the  saddle. 
Alexis  galloped  out  of  the  road  to  our  right  at 
the  head  of  a  company  of  Cossacks. 

A  fine  figure  of  a  man  he  was.  The  joy  of 
life  vibrated  all  through  his  being  and  showed 
in  his  proud  seat  and  royally  posed  shoulders. 


64  The  Stolen  Throne 

His  astrakhan  cap  with  its  white  egret  was 
tilted  to  one  side  of  his  head.  The  sharp  winds 
of  the  hills  had  cut  his  cheeks  into  a  ruddiness 
that  contrasted  pleasingly  with  his  yellow  hair. 
No  man  save  a  demi-centaur  could  have  held 
the  white  Arab  beneath  him,  under  such  mas- 
terful control. 

He  spoke  to  an  orderly  and  the  soldier  left 
his  side  and  rode  over  to  us. 

We  drew  rein.  The  man  addressed  Whit- 
worth. 

"The  Duke  invites  us  to  ride  with  him/'  ha 
said. 

Alexis  nodded  for  me  to  take  place  beside 
him. 

I  must  confess  that  I  was  pleased  at  his  mark 
of  favor.  The  man  fascinated  me  in  some 
untoward  way.  I  could  not  help  liking  him, 
despite  the  realization  of  the  cruelty  in  his  eyes 
and  the  sneering  lips  that  lied  in  habitual  smile. 
iHe  considerately  checked  the  pace  of  his  stal- 


I  Ride  With  the  Duke  65 

lion  to  accommodate  my  less  mettlesome 
mount." 

"You  ride  well,"  he  said. 

"A  Master  of  the  Hounds  must,"  I  replied. 

"Tell  me  of  this  great  English  sport." 

"Ah!"  he  exclaimed  when  I  described  the 
hunt,  "your  fox  is  a  stupid  fellow  and  a  craven 
who  does  not  use  his  fangs.  For  me  the  glories 
of  a  wolf  hunt!  Then,  one  has  a  worthy 
quarry.  Some  day,  perhaps  you  may  know 
what  it  is  to  ride  after  the  wolf.  But  I  warn 
you  there  shall  be  wound  for  wound  given — 
death  bite  for  death  bite.  How  long  do  you 
remain  in  Stromburg?" 

"A  day — a  year — who  knows  ?" 

"Your  mission  is ?" 

"Caprice.    And  you?"  I  asked. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Perhaps  a  'day 
— perchance  a  year.  Mr.  Whitworth  tells  me 
that  he  shall  be  at  the  Palace  to-morrow.  Do 
you  attend  him?" 


66  The  Stolen  Throne 

A  thrill  ran  through  me  at  his  words  and  I 
felt  myself  flush.  He  eyed  me  quizzically  and 
laughed. 

"Your  ride  has  reddened  your  face.  Your 
cheeks  are  red,"  he  paused  tentatively, — "as 
roses.  Mr.  Parker,  what  do  you  think  of  the 
roses  of  Stromburg  ?  Are  they  not  rare  ?" 

I  moved  uneasily  in  the  saddle  and  mentally 
consigned  Antsley  to  regions  unnamable,  for  a 
hare-brained  babbler. 

"I  did  not  think  that  the  fire  of  romance 
burned  in  the  veins  of  you  phlegmatic  Britons," 
he  went  on.  "Really,  my  dear  fellow,  you  were 
entrancing.  I  couldn't  for  the  life  of  me  escape 
eavesdropping.  I  was  nearby  with  a  dryad 
of  my  own." 

I  felt  like  a  fool.  There  are  times  when  one's 
love-pleadings  grate  damnably  on  the  memory. 
He  saw  that  I  was  getting  nettled  and  tactfully 
changed  the  trend  of  the  conversation  to  im- 
personal topics. 


I  Ride  With  the  Duke  67 

A  carriage  was  sweeping  in  our  direction 
with  a  file  of  cavalrymen  deployed  to  either 
side.  On  the  back  seat  sat  an  old  man  in  the 
uniform  of  a  Chief  of  Staff.  Alexis  gave  a 
quick  command  in  Russian  and  his  company 
drew  up  to  one  side  of  the  road.  When  the 
victoria  was  abreast  of  us  Alexis  raised  his  hat 
in  salute. 

Then  I  saw  that  the  carriage  held  another 
occupant  and  at  sight  of  her,  a  cry,  too  quick  to 
check,  burst  from  my  lips.  She  bowed  to 
Alexis  but  her  eyes  held  no  sign  of  recognition 
for  me.  And  yet  they  met  and  held  my  own 
for  one  brief  moment.  But  for  the  life  of  me 
I  could  not  read  the  message. 


The  South 
Gate  at  Eleven 


CHAPTER  VI. 
'The  South  Gate  at  Eleven" 

|S  I  sit  here  at  the  loom  of  mem- 
ory, speeding  my  shuttle  of 
words,  I  find  that  mine  is  an 
inept  hand — the  fabric  that  I 
weave  is  coarse  and  burred,  its 
pattern  crude — the  tones  in  dis- 
cord. I  am  indeed  an  ambitious  craftsman  for 
I  would  gather  the  love-scented  breaths  of  rec- 
ollection and  out  of  them  tapestry  the  image  of 
the  loveliest  lady  that  ever  God's  grace 
crowned,  that  you  may  know  how  utterly  she 
was  above  all  womankind. 

But  it  is  not  for  clumsy  words  to  justice  the 
moon-silver  or  the  songs  of  the  June  woods 
— the  softest  imagery  bruises  their  tender 
beauty ! 

How  then  may  I  tell  you  of  Gurtha? 

She  towered  above  her  women  as  Helen 


72  The  Stolen  Throne 

must  have  shamed  the  beauties  of  the  Trojan 
court. 

It  was  at  once  a  million  ages  and  a  fleeting 
second  until  I  stood  before  her.  And  had  it 
not  been  that  Antsley's  jolting  elbow  brought 
me  back  to  earth,  I  swear  that  I  should  have 
stood  waiting  there  at  the  foot  of  the  throne, 
until  the  day  of  doom  split  the  East. 

As  I  made  my  bow  she  dropped  her  hand- 
kerchief. I  stooped  for  it  at  the  same  moment 
as  one  of  her  maids-in-waiting.  As  our  hands 
touched  for  an  instant,  she  slipped  something 
into  my  palm. 

At   the   first   favorable   opportunity   I   un- 
clenched my  fingers  and  found  a  slip  of  paper. 
It  was  unsigned  and  bore  a  single  sentence : 
''The  south  gate  at  eleven  to-night" 

I  was  on  hand  long  before  the  stated  time. 

Promptly  on  the  appointed  hour  a  woman 
stepped  through.  As  she  walked  into  the  light 
I  recognized  her  as  the  lady-in-waiting  who 


The  South  Gate  at  Eleven  73 

had  pressed  the  message  upon  me.  I  walked 
toward  her  and  she  instantly  withdrew,  beckon- 
ing me  to  follow.  Within,  two  officers  stood  at 
attention.  One  remained  at  his  post  but  the 
other  led  us  along  a  narrow  passage  that  wound 
upward  to  some  height.  At  a  curtained  door 
he  stopped  and  signalled  me  to  remain  with 
him,  while  the  woman  drew  aside  the  draperies 
and  went  within.  Immediately  she  returned. 
"Go  through  the  door  to  your  right,"  she  whis- 
pered. I  turned  the  knob,  and,  coming  directly 
out  of  the  darkness,  was  at  first  blinded  by  the 
light. 

Then,  as  my  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the 
brightness,  I  found  myself  in  the  presence  of 
the  Grand  Duchess. 

For  some  while  she  merely  stared  at  me  with 
impersonal  scrutiny — when  she  did  speak  her 
words  stung  into  me  like  the  bite  of  cold  steel. 
"Once  a  kinswoman  of  mine  gave  her  lips  for 
kiss  to  a  man  of  the  people.  He  died  that  she 


74  The  Stolen  Throne 

might  live.  They  say  that  when  he  met  his 
fate,  his  face  was  lit  with  a  smile  and  there 
was  song  in  his  soul ;  for  he  had  been  honored 
above  all  his  fellows  and  there  was  no  man, 
among  the  nobles  of  her  father's  court,  who  did 
not  envy  him  his  lot  and  wish  to  be  in  his  stead. 
For  we  of  Stromburg  have  ever  been  proud 
and  haughty  women,  and  we  count  our  virtue 
above  the  crown  itself."  She  paused  a  moment 
then  continued: 

"When  you  first  saw  me  you  did  not  know 
my  identity.  It  was  a  new  experience  for  me 
to  be  as  the  other  women  are,  and  to  know  men 
as  they  know  them.  It  was  a  pretty  play.  You 
were  not  content  to  have  it  so.  You  must  needs 
crush  the  butterfly  hour.  But  I  was  generous 
— I  did  not  have  you  punished.  If  by  chance 
you  did  learn  the  truth,  I  thought  that  you 
would  understand  and  leave  Stromburg.  But 
you  remained.  You  cheapened  me.  Yesterday 
when  my  carriage  passed  you  in  the  Griinwold 


The  South  Gate  at  Eleven  75 

you  dared  raise  your  shameless  eyes  to  mine  for 
recognition.  To-day,  cloaked  with  the  position 
of  your  friends,  you  presumed  to  enter  my 
palace.  That  was  the  ultimate  insult.  I  did 
not  wish  a  scene.  I  knew  of  no  other  way  to 
make  you  realize  how  hateful  I  find  your  pres- 
ence in  Stromburg  and  so  I  have  made  this 
rendezvous  to  tell  you  that  you  must  pay  for 
your  unutterable  insolence  by  crossing  my 
borders  to-night." 

"Your  Grace,"  I  answered,  and  my  tones 
trembled  at  the  hurt  of  her  contempt.  "I  am 
an  Englishman  and  when  we  play  we  pay.  As 
for  shame,  I  feel  none.  Shame  is  the  self- 
acknowledgment  of  wrong.  It  is  no  wrong  for 
a  man  to  love  a  woman.  For  when  first  I  saw 
you  then  I  loved  you  with  all  the  heart  in  me. 
Love  is  God  in  man.  It  is  truth  that  sees  noth- 
ing— hears  nothing — knows  nothing,  save  it- 
self. I  did  not  know  who  you  were — I  only  saw 
what  you  were — all  else  was  nothing.  Had  you 


The  Stolen  Throne 


sat  in  your  coronation  robes  with  the  sceptre  in 
your  hand  and  the  crown  upon  your  head,  I 
should  have  loved  you.  Had  I  found  you  in 
the  scullery  of  a  wayside  inn,  I  should  have 
loved  you !" 

She  walked  to  where  I  stood  and  placed  both 
her  hands  upon  my  shoulders.  Long  and 
earnestly  did  she  look  into  my  eyes. 

And  I  trembled  in  every  tendon  at  the  con- 
tact. 

"I  think  I  shall  trust  you,"  she  said. 


/  Undertake 
a  Mission 


CHAPTER  VII. 


7  Undertake  a  Mission." 

EYOND  the  palace  grounds 
there  is  an  inn,  much  frequented 
by  Russian  soldiers.  As  Gurtha 
spoke  there  was  a  crash  of  glass 
and  immediately  after  a  party 
of  horsemen  began  to  tear  up 
and  down  the  street — ululating  like  fiends. 

One  dare-devil  stood  up  in  his  saddle  and 
danced  from  side  to  side  as  he  galloped  along. 
Up  and  down  he  rode — the  others  thunder- 
ing after  him,  making  the  night  a  livid  hell  with 
their  cries. 

Gurtha  stood  at  the  window  watching  the 
_scene. 

"The  dogs,"  she  muttered  through  her 
clenched  teeth.  A  bell  cord  hung  near  her. 
She  seized  it  and  tugged  with  all  the  might  of 
her  woman's  arm.  While  she  was  still  ringing, 


8o  The  Stolen  Throne 

the  officer  who  had  remained  in  the  passage, 
rushed  into  the  room,  his  face  torn  with  ex- 
citement, naked  sabre  in  hand.  His  eyes  threat- 
eningly sought  me  and  questioningly  Gurtha. 

"Andrew,"  she  commanded,  "To-morrow  go 
to  the  Duke  and  present  my  compliments.  Tell 
him  it  is  my  will  that  his  Cossacks  be  kept 
within  barracks  at  night.  Tell  him  that  I  am 
annoyed  by  their  outbursts — that  I  await  an 
apology  for  this  outrage.  Go !" 

An  instant  later  we  could  hear  him  pacing 
down  the  corridor,  his  scabbard  beating  the 
stones. 

"Your  Grace  has  honored  me  with  her  trust," 
I  began,  taking  up  our  conversation  at  its  cut — 
"a  trust  without  a  confidence  is  a  setting  that 
lacks  its  jewel." 

"Listen,  then !"  she  burst  forth.  "What  you 
saw  this  moment  is  but  one  of  the  many 
forms  of  insult  that  have  been  continuously 
thrust  upon  me  for  months.  I  am  a  wax 


I  Undertake  a  Mission  81 

doll  on  a  toy  throne.  To-morrow — even 
to-night,  Russia  may  demand  my  abdication. 
Thus  far  the  jealousy  of  the  other  powers 
has  been  my  only  buffer.  First  Russia  pro- 
posed that  I  marry  Orloff,  the  Czar's  cousin.  I 
rejected  the  match.  Then  they  wanted  me  to 
marry  Alexis.  I  refused  him.  I'll  wed  as  I 
choose,  and  when  I  choose  and  whom  I  choose. 
Finally  the  Russian  War  Office  intimated  that 
it  would  be  honored  by  an  ' 'invitation"  to 
manoeuvre  an  army  corps  in  Stromburg.  The 
request  was  a  veiled  command,  and  I  complied. 

"A  month  later  Alexis  came  to  press  his  suit 
in  person.  He  talked  of  love — of  devotion — of 
passion.  I  laughed  at  him  as  I  had  laughed  at 
the  state  marriage  brokers.  When  they  found 
.that  they  could  not  marry  Gurtha  they  began 
plans  to  marry  Stromburg. 

"Blitzow,  the  sharpest  claw  of  the  White 
Bear,  has  been  transferred  from  Paris  to  this 
unimportant  duchy.  Already  he  has  insinuated 


82  The  Stolen  Throne 

to  my  ministers  that  I  must  reconsider  my  re- 
fusal of  Alexis  whom  he  now  advances  as  a 
claimant  to  my  throne." 

"But  the  man  is  a  Russian,"  I  cried. 

"They  swear  that  he  is  the  direct  descendant 
of  Marcus,  whose  reign  antedated  the  Holz- 
dorn  dynasty.  Russia  threatens  to  support  his 
pretensions — if  needs  be  by  force !" 

"But  surely  the  other  powers  will  never  per- 
mit this !" 

"Wait  until  the  crux  is  reached.  England 
will  roar — France  will  threaten — the  Kaiser 
will  bluster,  but,  depend  upon  it,  when  the  bear 
growls  they  will  leave  the  field.  They  no  longer 
fear  Russia  but  they  do  mistrust  one  another. 
Europe  is  not  yet  ready  for  the  grand  war  of 
the  century,  nor  is  Stromburg  a  prize  worthy 
of  its  precipitation.  What  plans  are  being 
hatched  in  the  old  Cathedral " 

At  these  words  I  sprang  to  her  side — every 


I  Undertake  a  Mission  83 

sense  alert !  In  my  eagerness  I  even  laid  hold 
of  her  arm. 

"The  Cathedral  ?"  I  questioned. 

"The  Russians  are  barracked  there " 

"My  God!    I  think  I  see." 

"What  do  you  mean — what  do  you  know?" 

"Your  Grace,  to-morrow  I  may  be  able  to  tell 
you  much  that  you  would  not  now  understand." 

I  had  already  gained  the  door  when  her  voice 
arrested  me. 

"Stop !"  she  cried  imperiously. 

I  returned  to  her  side. 

"Your  Highness,"  I  said,  "you  told  me  a 
little  while  ago  that  you  would  trust  me.  Begin 
now.  Give  me  to-night  for  myself  and  you 
may  command  all  my  life  after." 

In  a  moment  I  had  reached  the  street.  I 
hailed  a  passing  fiacre.  When  we  reached 
the  hotel  I  threw  a  handful  of  silver  into  the 
astonished  palm  of  the  man  and  rushed  up  the 
stairs  three  steps  to  the  stride.  Antsley  was  in 


84  The  Stolen  Throne 

the  room  with  Christof.  "What  in  thundera- 
tion  is  the  matter  ?"  he  cried. 

Christof  discreetly  withdrew  to  the  keyhole 
from  which  coign  of  vantage  Antsley  immedi- 
ately coaxed  him  with  a  kick. 

"Ted,"  I  cried,  "I've  seen  her." 

Then  I  told  him  everything. 

"Well,  what  in  the  deuce  are  you  going  to 
do  ?"  he  asked  when  he  had  heard  me  out. 

"I'm  going  to  the  Cathedral  and  get  what  the 
old  queen  hid  under  the  stone.  I'm  going  to 
get  it  if  I  have  to  dig  up  every  block  in  the 
place." 

"And  if  it's  gone?" 

"Then  I'll  know  Russia's  game  and  I'll 
block  it!" 

"Nice  contract,"  he  drawled.  "Here  is  a 
man  setting  out  to  do  that,  single-handed,  which 
all  the  king's  horses  and  all  the  king's  men 
wouldn't  dare  tackle  with  all  the  king's  navy  to 
back  'em  up." 


I  Undertake  a  Mission  85 

I  slid  a  revolver  into  my  pocket  and  took 
down  one  of  the  rapiers  Ted  had  bought.  He 
fished  out  a  curved-end  chisel  from  the  depths 
of  his  trunk  and  handed  it  to  me.  Where  on 
earth  he  had  secured  it,  or  how,  I  never  learned. 
Slipping  into  the  hall,  I  crept  softly  down  the 
back  stairs,  noiselessly  drew  the  bolts  and 
stepped  out  into  the  street.  In  the  distance  the 
massive  spires  of  the  cathedral  rose  towering 
to  the  heavens,  their  golden  crosses  resting  in 
the  bosom  of  the  stars. 


Ecarte 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
"Ecertt." 


moon  was  n  a  pryng 
humor  that  night  but  there  was 
a  deep  shadow  under  the  trees 
and  I  walked  along  without  be- 
ing observed.  I  reached  the 
Cathedral  just  as  the  watch  was 
being  changed,  so  I  slunk  back  into  the  trees 
until  the  sentry  had  started  off  on  his  rounds. 
The  moment  he  turned  the  corner,  I  stole  across 
to  the  gate  but  found  that  it  was  barred. 
This  was  unfortunate,  as  I  could  not  risk  the 
fence,  tipped  as  it  was,  with  spearheads.  While 
I  was  debating  what  to  do,  I  heard  the  rumble 
of  wheels  and  the  soldier  returned  walking  be- 
side a  heavy  cart. 

The  gate  creaked  open  and  the  wagon  passed 
in.  Soon  I  heard  the  cart  returning.  I  stole 
to  the  shadow  of  one  of  the  granite  posts  and 


90  The  Stolen  Throne 

picking  up  a  rock,  threw  it  straight  ahead 
of  me. 

"What's  that,"  I  heard  the  soldier  say. 

He  and  the  driver  craned  their  necks  in  the 
direction  of  the  noise. 

"It  sounded  as  though  something  fell,"  the 
man  replied. 

Here  was  my  opportunity.  Crouching  under 
the  body  of  the  wagon  I  crawled  across  the 
stretch  of  moonlight  on  my  hands  and  knees. 
They  were  too  intent  to  notice  me  and  I  slipped 
within  and  managed  to  reach  a  great  oak  be- 
side the  path.  After  a  moment  of  listening  the 
soldier  laughed. 

"Oh,  I  guess  it  was  nothing.  Good-night, 
Heinrich,  and  don't  forget  to  carry  my  love  to 
your  sweet  Beulah.  She's  far  too  pretty  and 
buxom  to  keep  cooped  up  in  the  country  with 
pigs." 

"Better  with  pigs  in  the  country  than  in  the 
barracks"  was  the  sharp  reply. 


Ecarte  91 

The  gate  was  barred  again,  the  sentry  re- 
turned to  his  little  shed,  and  resting  his  head 
against  its  side,  soon  fell  asleep. 

I  ran  across  the  grass,  always  keeping 
within  the  shadows,  and  soon  gained  the  build- 
ing. I  paused  for  a  moment  to  get  my  bear- 
ings, then  counted  five  windows  from  the  north- 
east corner  of  the  building.  With  the  aid  of 
the  vines  with  which  the  walls  were  covered,  I 
soon  grasped  the  ledge.  The  rapier  was  in  my 
way,  however,  so  I  took  it  between  my  teeth 
and  selecting  a  place  where  the  leaves  were 
fewest  so  as  to  make  the  least  possible  rustle,  I 
drew  myself  up. 

I  made  more  noise  than  I  thought,  however, 
for  as  I  was  steadying  myself  on  the  precarious 
footing  I  was  suddenly  seized  by  the  legs.  Then 
a  revolver-barrel  was  pressed  against  my  side. 
Glancing  down  I  saw  that  it  was  Alexis. 

He  evidently  did  not  distinguish  my  features 
in  the  darkness  for  he  called  out  to  know  who 


92  The  Stolen  Throne 

I  was  and  what  I  wanted.  Seeing  that  escape 
was  impossible,  I  released  my  bite  upon  the 
sword,  letting  it  fall  with  a  dull  thud  upon  the 
grass. 

"It's  I,  Parker." 

"Pray  come  in  out  of  the  night  air,  mon  cher 
ami,"  he  said,  and  motioned  me  into  the  room. 
A  lamp  was  burning  on  the  table  but  a  thick 
shade  over  the  window  had  completely  cloaked 
its  rays  from  without. 

"First  pass  me  your  revolver.  I  shall  retain 
it  as  a  souvenir.  Rapier,  revolver,  and  as  I 
live,  a  curved  chisel.  How  romantic  of  you  to 
come  and  rob  me,  of  what  shall  I  say — of  my 
sleep?  Do  pour  yourself  a  bit  of  cognac — you 
must  be  quite  exhausted  after  such  an  arduous 
climb,  and  pray  be  seated.  No,  not  there.  You 
would  be  too  near  the  window  and  the  night 
air  might  prove  a  bit  injurious  to  your  consti- 
tution." 


Ecarte  93 

I  took  the  chair  he  indicated,  at  the  farthest 
end  of  the  room. 

"Well,"  I  remarked,  "What  do  you  propose 
to  do  with  me?" 

"Really,  I  haven't  as  yet  considered  the  situ- 
ation. Your  visit  is  quite  a  surprise.  You  see 
your  message  failed  to  reach  me." 

"What  message?" 

"Why,  surely  you  sent  word  that  you  in- 
tended to  spend  the  lonely  morning  hours  with 
me.  You  can't  imagine  how  much  I  appreciate 
your  delicate  consideration.  But,  pardon  me. 
I  forget  myself.  Do  you  care  for  a  cigarette. 
No?  I'm  sorry  that  I  haven't  a  cigar  as  you 
may  prefer  the  more  substantial  smoke !" 

I  drew  a  per  fee  to  from  my  pocket  and,  light- 
ing it,  settled  back  into  the  chair.  He  leaned 
forward  and  waved  an  airy  hand  to  me. 

"You  are  such  a  delightfully  unconventional 
chap,"  he  went  on.  "Now  that  was  a  unique 
idea  of  yours  to  choose  the  window  instead  of 


94  The  Stolen  Throne 

the  door.  We,  of  the  continent,  are  so  com- 
pletely bound  by  convention  and  propriety." 

He  placed  my  revolver  on  the  table,  keeping 
it  within  a  second's  reach. 

"But  I  am  delighted  to  have  you  here  and 
shall  enjoy  your  companionship.  Queer  quar- 
ters, eh  ?  The  building  was  originally  a  cathe- 
dral. These  lower  chambers  are  very  quiet  and 
removed.  You  will  notice  how  remarkably 
preserved  the  place  is !  They  built  well,  the  old 
masons.  Observe  the  walls,  for  example! 
How  ponderous  they  are!  Why  an  artillery 
salute,  fired  here,  would  scarcely  be  heard — a 
revolver  shot,  never!" 

He  paused  to  light  a  fresh  cigarette  and 
puffed  it  abstractedly.  He  took  up  my  revol- 
ver and  toyed  with  the  chambers,  twirling  them 
'round  and  'round  examining  the  cartridges. 
Then  he  arose  and  walking  to  my  chair,  stood 
for  a  while  peering  into  my  face. 


Ecarte  95 

"Parker,"  he  said,  "You  are  foolish.  Why 
weren't  you  content  with  your  fox.  This  time 
you're  after  game  much  too  big  for  you. 
Don't  deceive  yourself.  I  am  aware  of  your 
little  rendezvous  to-night.  And  so  you  thought 
to  pit  yourself  against  me."  He  laughed  softly. 
"The  woman  has  indeed  made  a  fool  of  you." 
He  paused  and  reflected  a  moment,  was  irreso- 
lute and  then  shook  his  head  with  decision. 

"I'm  not  going  to  ask  you  to  come  over  to 
our  side.  I  know  how  stubbornly  loyal  you 
Englishmen  are.  On  the  other  hand,  you  can't 
reasonably  expect  me  to  permit  you  to  depart. 
It  is  quite  unfortunate!  And  yet  the  incident 
to  follow  will  be  so  uninteresting  and  colorless ! 
Why,  it's  like  hunting  deer  in  a  treeless  en- 
"  closure.  I'm  half  inclined  to  make  it  a  bit  ex- 
citing— throw  some  red  light  on  the  scene  and 
spice  the  affair  with  a  dash  of  the  dramatic. 
Ah,"  ruminatingly,  "it's  not  a  bad  idea  at  all." 

"Are  you  a  good  card  player?"  he  asked 


96  The  Stolen  Throne 

presently.  Then  without  waiting  for  my  reply 
he  went  on. 

"I  think  we  shall  make  it  ecarte.  It  will  be 
so  apropos,  you  know — kings  and  queens  play 
such  a  vital  part  in  the  short  deck.  Come,  my 
friend,  while  we  live  let  us  make  the  most  of 
our  earthly  pleasures.  As  the  poet  says,  'Life 
is  short  and  joys  are  fleeting/  Correct  me  if  I 
misquote.  But  we  must  have  a  stake.  Now 
what  can  possibly  make  the  play  worth  while 
to  you  ?  Let  me  see — let  me  see.  Suppose  we 
say  rapiers,  eh?"  He  motioned  to  a  pair  of 
swords  on  the  wall  behind  him. 

I  jumped  up  . 

"Is  this  a  trick?"  I  demanded. 

"My  friend,"  he  answered  softly,  "you  are 
excited." 

He  motioned  me  to  a  pack  of  cards  on  the 
table. 

"Cut  for  deal— What  a  game  it  will  be !  Of 
course,  it's  all  the  same  thing  in  the  end.  At 


Ecarte  97 

any  event  I  shall  make  sure  that  you  are  no 
longer  an  interference  to  my  plans  and  as  a 
sportsman  I  don't  know  but  that  I  prefer  to  see 
you  hold  the  winning  card.  At  the  best  you 
have  one  chance  in  ten  to  sugar  your  morning 
coffee." 

"I'll  take  the  tenth  chance  and  enjoy  the 
pleasure  and  the  coffee,"!  retorted. 

"First  win  the  sword." 

"I  mean  to,"  I  replied. 

"Cut,"  he  commanded. 

"What  have  you?"  I  asked. 

"The  knave  of  hearts — and  you  ?" 

"The  queen  of  spades,"  I  replied. 

"An  augury!"  he  exulted.  "You  see  the 
fates  are  with  me.  The  knave  holds  highest 
.-power  in  our  game — the  queen  is  vanquished 
at  the  start. 

"Play,"  I  answered. 

"The  trump  is  hearts.  I  lead  the  ace  of 
spades  to  which  your  queen  falls.  Now  I  play 


98  The  Stolen  Throne 

the  knave  of  hearts  and  take  your  ten.  I  fol- 
low with  the  ace  of  diamonds." 

I  caught  the  trick  with  the  trump  ace  and 
threw  out  the  ace  of  clubs,  catching  his  king. 

"It  grows  delightful,"  he  said.  "Even 
tricks!" 

I  still  held  the  queen  of  hearts.  I  threw  the 
pasteboard  on  the  table  and  leaned  forward. 
Would  the  man  never  play !  He  bent  over  the 
board  studying  my  lead.  It  was  a  gamble  for 
a  throne !  The  pictured  monarchs  had  sprung 
to  life — the  fate  of  Stromburg  lay  in  the  cast 
of  the  Russian.  And  as  I  sat  waiting  for  him 
to  end  his  farce  I  swore  by  that  which  was 
strong  and  sure  and  cunning  in  me  to  kill  this 
man !  At  last  he  threw  down  the  card — it  was 
the  nine  of  hearts.  He  had  fluked  with  his 
knave!  "The  queen  wins!"  I  cried,  "and  by 
God's  grace  she'll  reign  on  and  hold  her 
throne!"  Then  some  heaven  sent  inspiration 
seized  me  and  I  leaped  forward,  just  in  time  to 
grasp  his  hand  as  he  raised  the  revolver ! 


/  Slay  the 
Dragon 


CHAPTER  IX. 


7  Slay  the  Dragon." 

|Y  hell,  you  shan't,"  I  cried. 
"You'll  play  fair."  We  swayed 
over  the  opposite  sides  of  the 
table  and  in  the  struggle  it  over- 
turned, hurling  him  to  the  floor. 
Quick  to  seize  my  advantage,  I 
leapt  upon  it  driving  all  the  breath  from  his 
body  and  leaning  over,  grasped  his  hand,  easily 
wrenching  the  revolver  from  his  weakened 
grip.  Soon  he  was  purple  with  suffocation  but 
terror  gave  him  voice  and  blanched  his  face, 
mottling  its  horrible  greenish  white  with  livid 
spots.  I  placed  the  muzzle  against  his  fore- 
head, but  could  not  bring  myself  to  press  the 
trigger. 

The  horror  of  death  crept  into  his  eyes,  and 
in  his  terror  he  sobbed  like  a  child. 

"God  knows  you  don't  deserve  it,"  I  cried, 


102  The  Stolen  Throne 

"but  I  can't  do  murder.  Get  up  and  take  a 
sword." 

At  the  first  kiss  of  the  steels  I  knew  that  he 
was  my  master.  I  have  met  the  best  men  of 
their  day  at  Heidelberg.  I  have  seen  Aubrun 
make  the  cleverest  swordsmen  of  the  French 
army  seem  like  gawky  country  louts.  But  this 
man  was  surpassing. 

His  rapier  darted  with  the  swiftness  of  a 
viper's  tongue.  Now  his  grip  was  adamant 
— again  he  scarcely  seemed  to  grasp  his 
blade.  He  divined  my  every  thrust  and  parried 
it  with  supercilious  ease  and  grace.  I  did  not 
dare  expose  myself.  Mine  was  a  play  of  de- 
fense. Once  he  forced  me  back  into  a  corner 
and  rained  blow  after  blow  so  fiercely  and  con- 
tinuously that  my  arm  became  numb  and  had 
he  not  slipped  upon  the  cards,  lying  scattered 
on  the  floor,  I  would  have  had  my  coup  de 
grace  then  and  there.  As  it  was,  his  point 
tore  me  in  a  ripping  slash  from  breast  to  waist, 


I  Slay  the  Dragon  103 

drawing  the  blood  in  pumping,  sickening 
spurts 

As  we  fenced,  Alexis  grew  more  resourceful 
and  calm,  and  gradually  changed  his  play,  dis- 
continuing the  furious  onslaughts  but  circling 
'round  me  instead,  feinting  in  such  wise  as  to 
seemingly  lay  himself  open — hoping  to  draw 
a  thrust  from  me.  But  I  had  learned  his  power 
and  was  not  to  be  tempted. 

A  calm  had  come  upon  me,  too,  but  it  was 
that  of  despair.  The  loss  of  blood  was  telling 
upon  my  strength  and  clouding  my  eye.  Every 
time  I  moved  my  sword-arm,  the  wound  seemed 
to  tear  itself  agape.  My  shirt  was  drenched. 
The  thick,  warm  stream  oozed  down  my  leg 
and  when  I  stamped  my  foot,  there  was  a  soggy 
swish. 

The  end  could  not  be  far  off.  What  a  fool 
I  was,  not  to  have  blown  out  his  brains  when 
he  lay  helpless  under  the  table ! 

God  knows  I  did  not  want  to  die !    Life  held 


104  The  Stolen  Throne 

too  much  just  then.  Morning  had  begun  to 
break.  A  copper  streak  was  dyeing  the  horizon, 
casting  its  metallic  glow  up  toward  the  stars 
as  they  stared  down  on  me  in  my  despair.  And 
I  had  to  know  the  night  just  when  the  day  of 
life  was  dawning.  I  wondered  if  Gurtha  would 
ever  know  that  I  had  given  my  life  to  her 
cause?  Perhaps  in  the  end,  she  would  wed 
him !  No,  hell's  own  furies,  no,  not  that !  The 
very  thought  burned  a  strengthening  jealousy 
within  me.  I  might  die,  but  God  would  give 
me  might  to  keep  this  man  from  reigning  in 
Stromburg.  I  felt  my  veins  surge  with  a  hotter 
pulsing.  My  lips  bled  where  I  crunched  my 
teeth  into  them.  Something  of  what  was  flash- 
ing through  my  brain  must  have  shown  in  my 
face,  for  Alexis  withdrew  a  pace  and  became 
more  cautious.  I  made  an  advance  upon  him 
and  managed  to  tear  his  cheek.  I  laughed  at 
'  the  sight  of  his  blood.  I  reviled  him.  I  taunted 
him.  I  jeered  at  his  pretensions.  I  sneered 


I  Slay  the  Dragon  105 

at  his  chances.  I  called  him  adventurer 
and  mountebank, — I  mocked  at  his  origin. 
I  soon  had  him  lashed  into  a  fury.  He  was 
no  longer  the  calm,  calculating  duelist,  but 
a  demon  frenzied  with  passion,  thrusting, 
slashing,  driving  his  way  around  the  room, 
uttering  horrible,  gurgling  snarls,  like  a 
dumb  man  on  the  rack.  I  drew  back  from  him, 
holding  his  eyes  with  my  own.  I  led  him  on  to 
where  he  had  wounded  me.  We  were  in  the 
corner.  He  was  now  standing  on  the  scattered 
cards,  this  time  slimy  with  my  blood.  I 
crouched  low  and  stealthily  lifted  one  foot  high 
against  the  wall,  pressing  all  my  energy  into 
that  leg  as  one  would  bear  down  upon  a  coiled 
spring.  With  a  chuckle  he  drew  back  to  spit 
me  and  in  his  eagerness  exposed  himself.  It 
was  my  moment.  Crouching  like  a  leopard  be- 
fore his  strike,  I  hurled  myself  with  the  force 
of  a  catapult  straight  at  him.  The  savagery 
and  impetus  of  my  attack  dismayed  him — he 


io6  The  Stolen  Throne 

started  back  but  slipped  upon  the  cards  and 
lost  his  guard. 

My  shortened  sword  bit  into  him  while  he 
was  still  falling  and,  missing  his  heart,  dug 
through  the  throat  up,  up — to  the  brain,  fasten- 
ing itself  into  the  very  bones  of  his  head.  There 
was  a  sickening  spurt  of  blood  that  caught  me 
full  in  the  face  and  he  was  dead. 

His  head  fell  upon  the  fateful  stone.  Shud- 
dering at  the  touch  of  him,  I  rolled  the  still 
pulsing  body  to  one  side  and,  kneeling,  pried 
out  the  seventh  block. 

Reaching  down  my  hand  closed  on  a  bundle 
of  papers  with  which  I  at  once  hastened  to  the 
lamp.  There  were  some  official  documents,  an 
unmounted  miniature  of  a  girl  holding  an  in- 
fant in  her  .arms,  and  a  faded  letter  addressed 
to  Andreas,  Grand  Duke  of  Stromburg,  of 
Damnar,  of  Wurlitz,  of  Marburg,  Baron  Garth 
and  a  list  of  other  titles  which  I  did  not  take 
time  to  decipher.  The  formal  instruments  I 


:>IL 

'i-~^4  - 

If 


I  Slay  the  Dragon  107 

merely  glanced  through,  they  were  only  im- 
portant as  establishing  the  status  of  Helga's 
son.  But  this  letter  aroused  my  interest.  It 
was  a  brave  message  to  the  child  she  was  never 
again  to  see,  a  command  that  he  fulfill  the  des- 
tiny of  his  blood,  a  cry  for  vengeance  upon  the 
wrong  done  his  line.  But  it  was  more  than  a 
mother's  appeal,  it  was  besides,  a  wise,  far- 
sighted  woman's  love  reaching  up  from  the 
grave  to  guide  her  son's  future;  for,  realizing 
that  Sir  Seton's  testimony  of  events  and  even 
the  papers  and  jewels  in  his  possession  might 
be  subject  to  discredit,  Helga  had  set  forth  in 
her  own  hand,  the  events  that  led  to  Andreas' 
flight  and  the  trust  imposed  upon  my  ancestor. 
Point  for  point,  it  tallied  with  Sir  Seton's  own 
_-story,  and  attested  with  her  personal  seal,  it  left 
but  little  vestige  of  doubt  as  to  the  legitimacy  of 
the  child's  succession. 

"Yet  of  what  avail  now,"  I  mused,  as  I 
placed  the  papers  in  my  pocket.    After  all,  they 


io8  The  Stolen  Throne 

were  worthless — and  I  had  bought  them  at  the 
highest  bid  in  the  auction  of  circumstance, — 
with  the  life  of  a  fellow  man.  At  the  thought 
I  shook  with  a  chill  and  the  high  tension  by 
which  I  had  been  held,  relaxed.  A  fit  of  laugh- 
ter— the  hysteria  of  a  man  who  has  just  stood 
on  the  verge  of  the  eternal,  and  who  has  held 
his  own  by  the  merest  whim  of  fate,  overcame 
me.  I  wanted  to  lie  down  and  give  way  to  the 
impulses  that  were  seeking  to  dominate  my 
will, — but  I  realized  that  at  any  moment  some- 
one might  find  me  there.  The  same  surge  of 
warning  urged  me  to  remove  all  clues  that 
might  lead  to  an  after-discovery.  I  fitted  the 
stone  back  into  its  place,  found  my  revolver  and 
chisel  and  cautiously  opened  the  casement. 

The  dizziness  which  I  had  experienced  dur- 
ing the  struggle  tried  to  return  to  me,  but  I 
gritted  my  teeth  and  willed  it  away,  stepped 
upon  the  ledge  and,  holding  to  the  vines  with  a 
grip  that  tore  my  palms,  clambered  down  to 


I  Slay  the  Dragon  109 

safety.  With  faltering  steps  and  every  sense 
as  alert  as  I  could  rouse  it,  I  manouevered  my 
way  back  to  the  gates.  My  first  thought  was  to 
wait  until  they  were  unbarred  and  trust  to 
Providence  for  an  unnoticed  exit.  But  it  was 
asking  too  much  of  opportunity  to  expect  the 
same  chances  that  had  favored  me  when  I  en- 
tered. There  was  only  one  egress  left, — the 
fence,  and  I  was  not  equal  to  the  strain  of 
mounting  it. 

Then  it  came  to  me  that  I  had  left  my  rapier 
lying  under  the  window,  where  it  had  fallen 
when  I  essayed  the  vines.  If  that  were  discov- 
ered, it  would  certainly  lead  to  my  detection,  as 
its  newness  would  suggest  a  careful  round  of 
the  shops  and  maybe  result  in  my  connection 
with  the  tragedy. 

So  back  again  I  slunk,  and,  feeling  around  in 
the  high  grass,  found  the  sword. 

By  this  time  my  wound  was  paining  me  fear- 
fully and  I  had  to  sit  down  until  the  more  vio- 


no  The  Stolen  Throne 

lent  paroxysms  eased  a  bit.  Already  the  east- 
ern sky  was  aglow  and  its  light  showed  me  a 
file  of  soldiers  emerging  from  an  outbuilding  at 
the  other  end  of  the  grounds.  They  did  not 
catch  sight  of  me,  for  I  instantly  flattened  my- 
self. And  very  happily,  too,  for  in  doing  so  I 
discovered  an  unbarred  window  opposite  my 
head.  It  evidently  belonged  to  a  chamber  un- 
der the  nave  of  the  cathedral. 

There  was  no  doubt  now,  that  any  attempt  to 
leave  by  the  regular  exit  would  be  futile.  I  had 
no  alternative.  I  must  try  this  opening.  So, 
arousing  sufficient  energy  to  crawl  over  to  it, 
I  clutched  the  sill,  set  my  arms  for  a  long  drop, 
and,  to  my  surprise,  found  that  my  feet  touched 
the  ground  as  soon  as  I  allowed  my  limbs  to 
fall.  I  stood  in  a  low  passageway.  Far  ahead 
of  me  a  slit  -of  light  showed  itself  dully.  I  re- 
moved my  shoes  and  creeping  along  in  my 
stockinged  feet,  came  in  a  short  while  to  an 
unsecured  door,  beyond  which  lay  water.  It 


I  Slay  the  Dragon  in 

was  one  of  the  city's  canals  and  not  far  away 
were  the  tottering  steps  of  an  old  bridge. 

Within  another  hour,  what  with  dodging 
and  caution,  I  found  my  way  back  to  the  Con- 
tinental. I  had  barely  sufficient  strength  to 
crawl  to  my  room  and  hide  my  blood-stained 
garments  deep  down  in  my  trunk — to  roughly 
bind  the  cut  in  my  side — to  dimly  realize  that 
Antsley  had  come  through  his  door  and  was 
helping  me  into  bed — when  unconsciousness 
stole  my  senses  and  I  faded  into  nothingness. 


of  the  Duchess 


CHAPTER  X. 


'The  Peril  of  the  Duchess" 

HRISTOF  was  excited.  He 
bustled  around  arranging  and 
disturbing  anything  upon  which 
he  could  lay  his  hands,  punctu- 
ating his  movements  with  sighs 
and  ominous  shakings  of  the 
head.  When  Frieda  came  with  the  linens,  he 
slipped  out  into  the  hallway  after  her,  and  I 
could  hear  them  whispering  together. 

"They've  brought  him  to  the  palace  and  he's 
there  in  the  great  hall  with  soldiers  all  around. 
The  master  says  they  are  going  to  take  away 
our  lady." 

The    man's    reply    was    inarticulate,    but 

through  the  half  open  door  I  could  see  the 

twitching  of  his  neck  muscles  and  he  gripped 

fiercely  the  great  horn-handled  knife  in  his  belt. 

"If  they  do— by  the  good  God " 


n6  The  Stolen  Throne 

Frieda  held  a  warning  finger  to  her  lips  and 
drew  him  out  of  earshot. 

A  moment  afterwards  he  came  back  into  the 
room. 

Had  I  heard  the  dreadful  news  ?  No  ?  The 
great  Duke  Alexis  had  been  found  dead  in  a 
small  room  of  the  old  Cathedral  with  a  sword- 
thrust  through  his  neck.  No  one  knew  when 
or  how  he  died.  All  the  sentries  were  under 
arrest,  but  it  was  common  rumor  that  they 
were  not  really  suspected.  It  was  said — but  no, 
he  must  say  nothing.  One  must  be  as  deaf 
and  dumb  as  Old  Peter  Strumpf  at  such  a  time 
when  a  word  would  set  a  man  to  counting  the 
stones  of  a  dungeon  cell.  Still  it  was  said — 
he  must  whisper  very  closely  to  my  ear — that 
the  Russians  were  coming  to  seize  the  country 
and  take  her  away.  He  had  heard  too 

But  I  had  already  listened  too  long. 

"You  may  go  now, — and  Christof — a  still 
tongue  remains  in  its  mouth  many  years." 


The  Peril  of  the  Duchess  117 

My  God,  what  was  there  to  do  ?  I  sat  down 
on  the  bed.  My  head  jumped  and  throbbed 
with  crazed  uncertainty.  How  plain  it  all  was ! 
Russia  would  regard  Alexis'  death  as  a  pretext 
to  seize  Stromburg.  Gurtha  would  be  made 
the  scapegoat.  And  I  had  rendered  the  way 
easy  for  it.  My  plans  had  carried — but  their 
fruition  lay  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  And 
here  I  lay  swathed  with  bandages  and  likely  to 
be  upon  my  back  for  days. 

Something  had  to  be  done.  Weak  and  fever- 
ish though  I  was,  I  managed  by  sheer  hysteria 
to  rise  and  get  into  my  clothes.  I  drew  out 
the  iron  box.  The  papers,  the  coronet  and  the 
jewels  were  still  there,  mockingly  safe.  I  was 
just  placing  Sir  Seton's  narrative  in  my 
-pocket,  along  with  the  documents  I  had  secured 
the  night  before,  when  somebody  whistled.  I 
looked  up  at  Antsley. 

"Damned  good  for  you,"  he  said,  "So  you 
got  them?" 


n8  The  Stolen  Throne 

I  nodded. 

"And — him  ?"  he  added  grimly. 

"Yes,  and  him,"  I  answered. 

"Thank  God,  then." 

"What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"I  mean,  old  man,  that  wound  or  no  wound 
you  must  manage  to  get  to  the  palace  at  once. 
I  mean  that  there's  merry  hell  to  pay.  Whit- 
worth  says  that  the  diplomatic  corps  is  girding 
up  its  loins  and  there's  brimstone  in  the  air. 
Blitzow  has  established  communication  with 
St.  Petersburg  and  is  about  to  demand  the 
abdication  of  Gurtha.  The  Russians  are  prac- 
tically in  possession  now.  They've  posted  sol- 
diers all  through  the  town  and  are  mounting  a 
battery  out  here  on  the  Plaza.  Burton,  Von 
Holburn  and  de  Nevers  are  hopping  wild,  but 
they  can't  make  up  their  minds  just  how  far  to 
go.  There'll  be  trouble,  none  the  less,  before 
it's  over.  The  army  has  practically  sold  out  to 
Blitzow,  but  these  people  here,  aren't  going  to 


The  Peril  of  the  Duchess  1 1 9 

give  up  their  Duchess  if  fighting  to  the  end 
can  save  her.  Every  man  you  see  is  bulky  at 
the  waist  and  little  groups  of  them  are  gather- 
ing on  every  corner.  It  will  be  a  vain  resist- 
ance though.  A  volley  or  so,  the  machine 
guns,  and  then  the  Cossacks !  God  help  them ! 
They  can  do  nothing.  And  God  help  her.  But 
you  can  do  something  and  you  will.  You  know, 
and  you'll  tell  what  you  know.  You'll  do  what 
I  would — what  you'd  want  me  to  do.  Old  man, 
it  will  be  a  beautiful  thing  to  die  for  her." 

We  spoke  but  once  after  that.  We  had  been 
walking  along,  I  busy  with  my  thoughts,  al- 
though I  could  feel  Antsley's  gaze  on  my  face 
all  the  way.  When  we  came  in  sight  of  the 
palace  he  put  his  hand  caressingly  on  my 
•  shoulder 

"You'll  do  it?"  he  pleaded. 

And  I  answered  as  in  a  dream:  "It  will  be 
a  beautiful  thing  to  die  for  her." 

A   detail  of   Cossacks   was   posted   before 


i2o  The  Stolen  Throne 

the  gates.  They  were  squatted  on  the  ground 
grasping  their  horses5  bridles. 

On  the  esplanade  were  several  machine  guns 
and  two  six  pounders  had  been  placed  to  com- 
mand either  gateway.  Belts  and  pyramids  of 
ammunition  were  piled  beside  them  and  the 
crews  busied  themselves  oiling  the  breeches 
and  sighting  distances.  As  we  attempted  to 
enter  an  officer  came  running  down  the  drive, 
his  sword  clanking  against  the  furbishments  of 
his  uniform. 

"You  cannot  enter,  gentlemen,"  he  said. 

"We  have  important  business  with  Her 
Grace,"  Antsley  replied. 

"Her  Grace  cannot  be  seen." 

"But  man,"  I  broke  in  fretfully,  "she  will  see 
us,  she  must  see  us." 

"I  have  my  orders,"  was  the  calm  reply. 

Antsley  looked  him  up  and  down.  "Since 
when  does  an  officer  of  the  Czar  carry  the  com- 
mands of  the  Duchess  of  Stromburg?" 


The  Peril  of  the  Duchess  121 

"I  am  not  here  to  answer  questions." 

An  orderly  clattered  past  us.  His  horse's 
flanks  were  all  a'steam  and  bloody  with  spur- 
tears.  I  noticed  that  he  carried  a  despatch  bag. 

It  was  no  time  for  pandering  or  parley.  I 
drew  the  officer  aside.  "All  Stromburg  can 
wait,"  I  whispered,  meaningly,  "and  the  rest  of 
the  world,  but  I  cannot — nor  Russia." 

I  tore  a  leaf  from  my  note  book  and  scrawled 
a  sentence:  "You  hold  a  shut  lock,  I,  its  key." 

"Take  this  to  M.  Blitzow — he  will  give  you 


an  answer." 


An  instant  after  he  was  back  again.  "Kindly 
follow  me,"  he  said.  We  passed  through  a  hall 
lined  with  officers,  to  the  audience  chamber. 
The  sentry  at  the  door  drew  aside  and  we  en- 
tered. Gurtha  looked  up  and  half  inclined  her 
head  in  recognition.  Never  had  she  been  so 
magnificent,  never  more  haughty,  never  so 
royal. 

Blitzow  motioned  us  to  be  seated.    He  was 


122  The  Stolen  Throne 

reading  the  dispatches  which  the  courier  had 
just  brought.  The  man  stood  beside  him.  Two 
privates  of  the  Engineer  Corps  came  through, 
one  bearing  a  coil  of  telegraph  wire,  the  other 
a  keyboard.  They  passed  in  front  of  us  and 
conferred  for  a  moment  with  Blitzow.  Burton 
sat  alone,  biting  his  nails.  De  Nevers  paced 
up  and  down,  in  his  nervousness  tapping  his 
teeth  with  a  fountain  pen.  Von  Holborn 
chatted  in  subdued  tones  with  a  court  official. 
And  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  draped  with  the 
Eagle  of  Russia  and  the  black  and  green  of 
Stromburg,  was  a  long  black  "something"  with 
waxen  tapers  burning  at  its  head  and  a  sword 
resting  across. 

Antsley  walked  over  to  the  bier  and  drew 
back  a  fold  of  the  flags.  Then  he  came  to  his 
seat  again  and  sat  drumming  noiselessly  on  his 
knees.  I  turned  'round  to  him.  He  smiled. 
"That  was  a  damned  pretty  thrust,"  he  whis- 
pered. 


The  Man 
with  the  Nose 


CHAPTER  XI. 
'The  Man  With  the  Nose" 

LADIMIR  BLITZOW  was  a 
diplomat.  His  eyes,  his  mouth, 
his  nose  spelled  the  word.  And 
what  a  nose  it  was!  Not  a 
mere  shapeless  pudge,  stuck 
thoughtlessly  on  to  complete 
the  symmetry  of  a  face,  but  a  fine,  large  dis- 
tingue— (what  shall  I  say?) — speaking  pon- 
derosity! It  rose  to  perilous  heights,  into  the 
very  bush  of  his  eyebrows,  then  swooped  down 
in  one  long  curve,  until  it  fairly  overhung  his 
nether  lip. 

It  was  a  gorgeous  affair,  heavy  with  Tyrian 
purples  and  soulful  blues  and  all  overrun  with 
a  network  of  tiny,  red  veins  for  all  the  world 
like  a  range  of  irrigating  canals.  At  times  a 
waxen  calm  overspread  its  surface.  Then  you 
could  know  that  the  great  mind  was  at  peace 


126  The  Stolen  Throne 

and  that  affairs  of  state  were  at  the  moment 
laid  aside  for  the  fillip  of  small  talk  and  the 
zest  of  quip  and  epigram. 

To-day  it  fairly  pulsated  and  swelled  with 
excitement,  and  gleamed  for  all  the  world  like 
a  great  carbuncle,  afire  with  its  own  color- 
passion. 

Perhaps  that  selfsame  nose  gave  rise  to 
rumors  of  a  Semitic  strain.  Many  were  the 
conjectures  as  to  Blitzow's  past.  It  was  hinted 
in  certain  quarters  that  he  had  risen  to  the 
broader  and  more  scopeful  espionage  of  inter- 
national diplomacy  from  a  lowly  station  in  the 
secret  police — while  others  as  positively  as- 
serted that  he  had  begun  life  as  valet  to  the 

Grand  Duke  O ,  supplying  information 

which  brought  about  the  exposure  of  that  ill- 
fated  dreamer's  plan  for  a  liberal  Russia. 

Blitzow's  presence  anywhere  was  much  akin 
to  the  sight  of  a  distant  vulture — somebody 
usually  happened  to  die — if  not  in  the  flesh,  at 


Vladimir  Blitzow  was  a  diplomat ;  his  eyes,  his 
mouth,  his  nose  spelled  the  word  ' ' 


The  Man  With  the  Nose  127 

least  politically.  Often  it  was  a  state.  Rulers 
of  advantageously  placed  little  principalities 
instinctively  cast  about  them  for  their  ablest 
counsellors  when  Blitzow  appeared  upon  the 
scene,  and  the  other  powers  lost  no  time  in  send- 
ing to  the  place  of  his  alighting,  a  convenient 
cruiser  and  a  crisis-tried  agent. 

Diplomacy  was  Blitzow's  god  and  he  sacri- 

*  need  all  at  the  altar  of  his  divinity.    No  action 

could  be  mean  or  petty  or  despicable  in  his 

sight  if  the  ends  of  diplomacy  could  be  served. 

He  was  a  zealous  enthusiast  of  the  lie. 

"A  good  lie,"  he  once  said,  "is  the  cleverest 
thing  in  all  the  world.  It  arranges  its  own 
antecedents  and  sequence.  It  is  a  perfect  circle, 
comprehending  all  emergencies  and  possibili- 
ties. Now  truth  is  such  an  irregular  affair. 
When  and  where  it  has  birth  no  one  knows.  Its 
source  is  often  a  tiny  spring,  away  back  in  the 
affairs  of  men — as  likely  as  not,  generations 
gone.  It  flows  through  the  years  and  joins  the 


128  The  Stolen  Throne 

broad  current  of  the  present,  losing  its  own 
identity,  and  trending  toward  the  unknown. 
You  embark  your  cockleshell  into  its  current 
and  drift,  ignorant  of  whence  or  thence.  Truth 
is  a  dangerous  water  for  ships  of  state.  Only 
a  fool  would  trust  it.  There  is  no  art,  no  clever- 
ness in  its  nature.  A  good  lie  is  the  highest 
achievement  of  genius.  It  is  its  own  destiny. 
It  shapes  the  past,  moulds  the  present  as  it 
will, — guides  the  future.  Thersites  and 
Machiavelli  were  patterns  for  all  ages  of  clever 
men.  Washington  was  an  accident." 

The  lie  was  indeed  his  cult. 

Burton's  blunt  ways  were  likely  to  prove  no 
match  for  that  keen,  unscrupulous  intellect. 
Von  Holborn  hadn't  the  sharpness  of  Blitzow's 
little  finger  in  his  whole  ponderous  makeup. 
De  Nevers  feared  him.  They  had  measured 
swords  before  and  the  sting  of  each  defeat  was 
a  never-healing  wound  in  the  Frenchman's 
vanity. 


The  Man  With  the  Nose  129 

The  field  was  indeed  Russia's. 

Blitzow  peered  at  his  colleagues  over  the 
edge  of  his  pincenez.  There  was  an  ill-sup- 
pressed triumph,  an  insulting  confidence  in  his 
glance. 

Alexis'  death  had  been  at  first  thought,  a 
fearful  non-plus  to  all  his  calculations,  but  the 
knight  that  was  lost  had  suddenly  opened  the 
way  to  a  more  coveted  queen. 

The  death  of  the  man  affected  him  in  no  wise. 
Alexis  had  been  a  mere  pawn  on  his  board. 
Nor  did  the  fact  that  he  was  wrecking  a  wo- 
man's life  in  the  most  dastardly  manner,  occa- 
sion him  the  least  qualm  of  conscience.  It  was 
convenient — necessary,  to  make  Gurtha  the  in- 
stigator, if  not  the  actual  agent  in  Alexis* 
_death.  What  if  she  did  suffer — it  was  all  in 
the  game  as  he  played  it. 

The  scattered  groups  of  Stromburgers 
whom  we  had  noticed  on  our  way  to  the  Palace 
had  joined  with  one  another  and  were  gathered 


130  The  Stolen  Throne 

outside  the  grounds.  Through  the  windows  I 
could  see  them  approach  in  rapidly  increasing 
numbers.  Women  darted  through  the  crowd 
wildly  gesticulating  and  haranguing  the  men. 
The  Cossacks  were  now  mounted  and  riding 
in  a  constant  circle,  forming  a  cordon  around 
the  populace. 

Gurtha  showed  no  sign  of  emotion.  Her 
face  was  set  and  dead.  It  was  as  of  carved 
marble — a  beautiful  thing  of  stone. 

Antsley's  eyes  did  not  leave  her.  Teddy 
himself  was  pale  and  breathing  hard. 

When  Blitzow  at  last  came  forward,  Ted 
turned  round  to  me  and  gripped  my  hand. 

"It's  time,  old  man,"  he  said. 

It  was  indeed  time. 

And  yet,  although  I  knew  that  the  moment 
had  come,  I  wanted  to  wait.  Something  within 
held  me  back — a  sort  of  struggling  hope 
which  whispered,  despite  all  reason,  that  there 
might  be  another  way.  I  pressed  my  hand  to 


The  Man  With  the  Nose  131 

my  heart  to  still  its  beatings.  My  fingers 
touched  upon  the  papers.  A  light  of  inspira- 
tion flashed  upon  me  and  I  resolved  upon  a  dar- 
ing thing. 

Blitzow  was  gazing  toward  me.  I  started 
from  my  seat  and  went  forward  a  few  steps 
understanding  that  he  wished  to  speak  about 
the  message  I  had  sent.  But  he  motioned  me 
back.  Evidently  he  was  not  yet  prepared  for 
my  entry  into  his  little  play. 

Instead  he  whispered  to  an  officer  and  the 
man  walked  to  Gurtha  and  addressed  her. 
She  refused  his  proffered  arm  and  arose. 
There  was  no  faltering,  no  hesitation.  She 
swept  by  with  eyes  to  the  front  and  shoulders  as 
erect  as  a  genadier's  of  the  guard.  An  em- 
_press  never  on  her  coronation  day  held  herself 
with  more  surpassing  majesty  and  proud  grace 
than  did  our  Lady  of  Stromburg  in  this  the 
crisis  of  her  life. 

When  she  passed  where  we  sat  something 


132  The  Stolen  Throne 

white  fluttered  to  the  floor.  I  stooped  and 
picked  it  up.  It  was  a  strip  of  lace  torn  from 
her  sleeve,  but  it  was  more  precious  to  me  than 
all  else  of  the  world. 

The  ages  rolled  back  in  their  folds  and  I  was 
a  knight-errant  riding  to  save  my  lady.  This 
was  my  guerdon  and  I  swore  eternal  faith  and 
fealty  to  it. 

Blitzow  came  forward  to  greet  her,  bowing 
unctuously,  his  nasal  barometer  forecasting 
unutterable  triumph.  She  saw  him,  but  as 
though  she  saw  him  not,  ignored  his  proffered 
arm,  swept  past,  seated  herself  and  faced  us 
— a  Duchess  of  Stromburg,  fearless  and 
haughty,  before  the  men  who  dared  to  sit  in 
judgment  upon  her,  in  these,  the  halls  of  her 
fathers. 

Blitzow  coughed  deprecatingly  and  bowed. 
"Your  Grace,"  he  began. 

The  curtain  was  up  at  last. 

'But  I  wondered  who  would  say  the  "tag" 


The 
Pretender 


CHAPTER  XII. 
"The  Pretender." 

TROMBURG  has  but  one  great 
river,  the  Sarga. 

Vessels  of  heavy  tonnage  can 
sail  within  half  a  mile  of  the 
palace    where    a    great    cliff 
reaches    down    with    abutting 
arms  and  forms  a  small  but  deep  harbour. 

While  the  foregoing  events  were  transpiring 
a  man  stood  upon  the  cliff,  his  eyes  strained 
northward.  Just  before  Blitzow  began  his 
speech,  the  looker  started  and  drew  a  pair  of 
naval  glasses  from  a  case  at  his  side  and 
levelled  them  toward  a  tiny  white  thread  trail- 
ing along  the  horizon. 

He  waited  until  the  top  masts  of  a  ship  came 
into  sight  and  then  picked  up  a  white  flag  lying 
at  his  feet,  which  he  waved  with  regular  motion 
right  and  left  and  downward.  In  reply  a  tiny 


136  The  Stolen  Throne 

ensign  came  fluttering  to  the  peak  of  one  of  the 
masts. 

Repeating  his  signal  once  more,  he  turned 
and  walked  rapidly  toward  the  town.  Burton 
looking  casually  out  of  the  window,  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  flag,  wig-wagging  out  on  the 
cliff  and  turned  away.  I  wondered  at  the  sud- 
den change  in  his  features.  The  jaw  muscles 
were  set  hard  and  as  his  eyes  met  Blitzow's,  a 
new  light  came  into  them,  answering  the  tri- 
umphant leer  of  the  Russian  with  a  steady, 
confident  gaze. 

Blitzow  was  now  speaking. 

"Your  Grace  is  doubtless  aware  of  the  ter- 
rible and  sudden  fate  that  has  befallen  the  late 
Duke  of  Stromburg" 

As  he  uttered  Alexis'  name  he  paused  sig- 
nificantly. This  was  the  first  time  the  dead 
man  had  been  so  nominated,  and  there  was  an 
import  too  plain  to  be  misunderstood  in  the 
Russian's  words.  The  emissaries  of  France 


The  Pretender  137 

and  Germany  exchanged  stealthy  glances. 
Burton  merely  stared  squarely  into  the  speak- 
er's face  and  smiled. 

"The  deceased  was  at  the  moment  of  his 
death  an  officer  in  the  service  of  His  Imperial 
Majesty,  the  Czar  of  the  Russias  (whom  God 
preserve),  and  it  devolves  upon  me  as  the  rep- 
resentative of  his  government  at  the  court  of 
Stromburg,  to  acquaint  Your  Grace  that  I  am 
called  upon  to  take  immediate  steps  in  the  in- 
terests of  my  master. 

"The  duchy  of  Stromburg  has  been  for  some 
while  an  object  of  notice  before  the  courts  of 
Europe.  It  is  well  known  that  the  house  of 
Holzdorn  has  long  usurped  the  rule  of  the 
country.  When  in  11750  the  reigning  duke, 
Marcus,  fell  under  the  knife  of  an  assassin, 
Nicholas  of  Holzorn  seized  the  throne  and 
forced  the  line  of  Marcus  into  exile.  The 
heir-presumptive,  a  babe  in  arms,  was  spirited 
away  by  a  faithful  retainer,  who  fled  to  Russia 


138  The  Stolen  Throne 

with  the  infant  duke,  where  asylum  was  at  once 
granted  them,  and  under  that  protection  the 
descendants  of  Marcus'  son  have  since  lived. 
For  almost  a  century  and  a  half  no  attempt 
has  been  made  to  drive  the  usurping  line  from 
power,  until  the  present  Czar  enlisted  his  sym- 
pathy with  the  rightful  duke,  the  late  Alexis, 
and  lent  support  to  his  pretentions.  Certain 
demands  would  have  been  laid  before  Your 
Grace  to-day,  but  he,  ia  whose  name  Russia 
would  have  made  its  address,  lies  before  us, 
dead,  slain  within  the  shadow  of  his  father's 
throne,  stricken  as  fell  Marcus  before  him,  by 
an  assassin's  hand!  I  cannot  conceal  from 
Your  Grace  the  fact  that  Russia  holds  you  re- 
sponsible for  the  deed." 

Antsley  gripped  my  knee  and  whispered 
something  into  my  ear. 

Blitzow  paused.  "Would  that  I  could  give 
the  hands  from  off  my  arms,  Your  Grace,"  he 
continued,  "rather  than  utter  these  words,  but 


The  Pretender  139 

the  dead  calls  forth  from  yonder  bier  for  veng- 
eance, and  Russia  demands  the  punishment  of 
his  slayer.  I  am  commanded  to  summon  you 
to  St.  Petersburg,  and  in  the  name  of  the  Czar 
I  declare  a  protectorate  over  Stromburg !" 

Immediately,  I  was  on  my  feet  and  striding 
down  the  room.  Blitzow  motioned  me  back 
and  several  officers  rushed  forward  to  restrain 
me,  but  I  evaded  them  and  brushing  aside  the 
enraged  diplomat,  mounted  the  steps  of  the 
throne,  and  dropping  on  my  knee  pressed 
Gurtha's  hand  to  my  lips.  Then  I  turned  to 
the  room.  No  one  moved.  My  unexpected 
interruption  had  stricken  them  dumb  with 
amazement.  I  motioned  to  Burton  and  he 
wonderingly  walked  over  and  sat  down  beside 
Blitzow,  now  white  with  fury,  save  for  his  nose, 
which  radiated  every  livid  tint. 

"Gentlemen,"  I  cried,  "a  sweet  lady  has  been 
cruelly  wronged  and  vilely  traduced  by  this 
man,  who  has  heaped  insult  and  accusation 


140  The  Stolen  Throne 

upon  her,  without  a  vestige  of  proof.  He  has 
vilified  a  good  woman  and  tried  to  render  her 
in  your  eyes  and  the  eyes  of  the  world  a  crime- 
stained  murderess,  that  his  petty  game  of 
diplomacy  may  have  successful  outcome. 
Gurtha  of  Stromburg  is  not  an  assassin  nor 
does  she  know  at  whose  hands  the  dead  man 
there  fell." 

I  was  calm  with  confidence.     I  drew  Sir 

Seton's  narrative  from  my  pocket  and  read. 
But  there  was  one  page  which  I  did  not  read. 
Unnoticed  by  anyone  in  the  room,  I  had  deftly 
slipped  it  into  my  bosom  and  the  world  did  not 
learn  that  the  son  of  Marcus  died  in  infancy. 
To  my  astounded  audience  he  had  lived  to  bear 
progeny  and  the  son  of  his  sons  seemed  to 
stand  before  them  now.  The  faces  of  the  men 
before  me  were  complex  with  amazement. 
Antsley  sat  spellbound.  This  was  a  different 
denoument  than  that  which  he  had  pictured. 
I  told  the  story  of  the  discovery  which  had  led 


The  Pretender  141 

me  to  Stromburg.  "Here,"  I  cried,  producing 
the  papers  I  had  removed  from  the  Cathedral, 
"are  state  papers  which  have  lain  concealed  in 
Stromburg  for  more  than  a  century.  They 
establish  the  identity  of  the  child  Andreas — 
they  trace  my  lineage  direct  to  Marcus.  Last 
night  I  went  to  remove  them  from  their  place  of 
concealment.  Alexis  met  me  there.  He  at- 
tacked me,  and  in  self-defense  I  killed  him." 

I  turned  to  Gurtha.  There  was  a  smile  on 
my  lips.  There  was  joy  in  my  heart  which  she 
should  share,  for  had  I  not  preserved  her 
liberty  and  her  throne  for  her  ?  But  may  God 
to  my  dying  day,  save  me  from  another  such 
look  of  unutterable  loathing  and  scorn  as  that 
which  she  cast  upon  me. 

An  officer  rushed  into  the  room  and  drew 
Blitzow  to  the  window  where  Burton  had 
stood.  Just  then  there  came  the  dull  boom  of 
guns  from  the  waters  beyond.  Burton  did  not 
turn  'round  but  there  was  that  in  his  face  that 


142  The  Stolen  Throne 

I  did  not  understand.  It  was  more  the  look  of 
a  bulldog  about  to  spring  than  anything  I  had 
ever  seen.  And  I  wondered. 

Steaming  up  the  river,  Royal  George  snap- 
ping to  the  wind,  came  H.  M.  S.  "Determina- 
tion." A  puff  of  black  smoke  broke  from  her 
side  followed  by  the  rumble  of  her  forward 
gun.  At  the  sound  of  the  salute  Blitzow  gazed 
from  Burton  to  me 

"A  pretty  coup,  messieurs,"  he  hissed. 

"You  mean  ?"  was  Burton's  cold  reply. 

"Your  claimant  and,"  shrugging  his  shoul- 
ders, "your  demonstration." 

"An  accident,"  answered  Burton.  "If  you 
think  that  there  is  the  least  connection  between 
Mr.  Parker's  presence  in  Stromburg  and  that 
man  o'  war,  you  are  in  error — the  events  of  the 
last  hour  are  as  great  a  surprise  to  me,  as  they 
were  to  you." 

The  Russian  smiled  incredulously. 


The  Pretender  143 

"Then  may  I  ask  what  attitude  we  may  ex- 
pect for  your  government  in  the  matter  of  this 
preposterous  adventurer  ?" 

Here  was  a  new  complication — for  which  my 
kinetoscopic  plans  of  the  past  hour  had  not  pro- 
vided. The  tentacles  of  diplomacy  had  begun 
to  reach  around  me.  "I  claim  the  protection 
of  the  British  flag,"  I  cried.  Blitzow  bestowed 
a  keen  glance  upon  me. 

"But  you  are  by  your  own  words  no  Eng- 
lishman— Your  Highness" — this  last  with  a 
withering  sarcasm  souring  his  voice. 

The  situation  was  rapidly  unfolding  strange 
aspects.  I  looked  to  Burton  but  he  remained 
silent. 

"I  am  the  Duke,"  I  cried. 
-  "That,  sir,  remains  to  be  established. 
Kingships  must  rest  on  a  firmer  rock  than 
words.  Not  you  nor  England  nor  I,  can  fasten 
the  coronation  robe  across  your  shoulders  with 
a  mere  claim.  Although  you  have  renounced 


144  The  Stolen  Throne 

your  allegiance  to  England,  such  act  does  not 
set  you  upon  this  throne !" 

The  curious  court  throng  had  pressed  close 
around  us.  At  this  juncture  Gurtha's  voice 
broke  in  upon  us. 

"You  claim  the  throne  of  Stromburg  ?"  She 
spoke  slowly  and  lowly  but  with  a  rasp  of 
menace. 

"Your  Highness,"  I  stuttered. 

"Yes  or  no?" 

"Yes,  Your  Highness,"  I  answered,  deem- 
ing it  best  for  the  present  to  carry  out  the  role 
I  had  assumed. 

"Were  you  aware  of  the  pretensions  of 
Alexis?" 

Again  I  paused  before  answering.  But  she 
was  impatient  for  a  reply. 

"I  command  you  to  answer." 

"Yes.  Your  Highness  herself  explained  the 
matter  to  me." 

"That  is  a  deliberate  lie — I  have  never  be- 
fore spoken  to  you — I  do  not  know  you." 


The  Pretender  145 

I  gazed  at  her  in  dumb  amazement.  Then 
my  glance  sought  Burton,  but  he  deliberately 
turned  his  back  and  peered  out  of  the  window. 
Whitworth  dropped  his  eyes.  Here  and  there 
I  could  see  a  hand  feverishly  clutch  upon  a 
sword  hilt. 

"It  is  a  lie,"  she  again  said. 

"Yes,  it  is  a  lie,"  I  replied  to  her  and  this 
time  I  stared  her  full  and  fair  in  the  face  and 
there  was  that  in  her  own  glance  that  told  me 
that  she,  at  least,  took  my  words  as  I  meant 
them  to  carry. 

She  whispered  to  an  officer  and  he  imme- 
diately left  the  room. 

Again  Gurtha  spoke.  "You  have  acknowl- 
edged that  you  killed  Alexis?" 

"Yes," — I  said — "but  in  fair  duel  and  in  self- 
-  defence. 

The  tramp  of  men  marching  sounded  down 
the  corridor  and  a  detail  of  the  palace  guard 
entered  the  room  and  halted  within  the  en- 
trance. 


146  The  Stolen  Throne 

"Since  by  your  own  words  you  are  a  subject 
of  Stromburg  and  by  public  confession  an 
assassin,  I  command  that  you  be  placed  under 
arrest  and  committed  to  prison." 

The  heavens  came  tumbling  out  of  God's 
hand  and  bore  me  down,  down,  down  to  the  hell 
where  only  women  are.  A  hell  of  roses  and 
song  whose  fires  are  lit  with  the  souls  of  men 
who  believe.  On,  on,  on  I  tumbled  through 
the  flames  until  I  fell  upon  a  mass  of  lace  upon 
which  I  stamped  and  ground  with  my  heel. 
Then  Antsley's  chafing  brought  me  back  to  my 
senses  and  with  his  help  I  struggled  to  my  feet. 

The  officer  into  whose  charge  I  had  been  en- 
trusted gave  the  order  to  advance  and,  sup- 
ported on  either  side,  I  was  led  from  the  room. 
But  first  I  paused  long  enough  to  crunch  my 
heel  once  more  into  the  strip  of  lace  that  fell 
from  my  hand  when  I  had  swooned. 

And  now,  the  hell  that  burnt  me  leapt  from  a 
living  woman's  furious  eyes. 


/  Enter 
the  Fortress 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
/  Enter  the  Fortress" 

HE  city  prison  of  Stromburg  is 
in  the  purlieus  of  the  city.  It  is 
a  foul,  reeking  hole  without 
draught  or  ventilation.  The 
few  hours  I  spent  within  its 
walls  shall  always  be  a  sear 
upon  my  memory. 

Shortly  after  nightfall  an  order  came  com- 
manding my  transfer  to  an  apartment  in  the 
fortress.  Here  I  was  placed  in  a  large  room, 
the  grated  windows  and  door  of  which  alone 
indicated  its  real  character.  This  much,  I 
afterwards  learned,  Burton  had  accomplished 
in  my  behalf.  I  found  that  a  number  of  my 
effects  had  been  transferred  from  the  Con- 
tinental, so  that  I  was  at  least  to  enjoy  the  ma- 
terial comforts.  Among  my  belongings  were 
a  number  of  books  and  so,  what  with  pipe  and 
reading,  I  did  not  fare  at  all  badly. 


150  The  Stolen  Throne 

The  first  part  qf  the  morning  passed  with- 
out any  word  from  my  friends.  About  ten 
o'clock  I  heard  a  considerable  hubbub  below, 
which  upon  investigation  proved  to  be  the 
clatter  and  commotion  of  the  Russians  with- 
drawing to  their  own  quarters  in  the  Cathedral. 
Here  and  there,  I  saw  wandering  about  in  the 
confusion,  occasional  "jackies"  on  leave  from 
the  "Determination,"  which  lay  at  anchor  a 
few  hundred  yards  down  the  river. 

There  was  a  field  glass  in  my  bag  and  I 
whiled  away  the  better  part  of  an  hour  watch- 
ing life  on  board  the  gunboat. 

The  "Determination"  was  at  that  time  a  new 
type  of  vessel.  Since  then  many  gunboats  of 
her  class  have  been  added  to  the  British  serv- 
ice. They  are  mostly  stationed  in  the  far  East 
where  there  is  constant  need  of  light-draught 
warships  capable  of  finding  their  way  to  inter- 
ior towns  where  British  lives  or  British  inter- 
ests are  threatened. 


I  Enter  the  Fortress  151 

The  sight  of  women  visitors  on  her  deck 
vividly  recalled  to  my  mind  the  events  of  the 
preceding  day,  and  I  climbed  down  from  my 
chair  to  sink  into  its  seat,  overwhelmed  with  a 
vortex  of  emotions  upon  which  I  had  purposely 
kept  from  dwelling. 

The  treachery  of  Gurtha  cut  far  more  cruelly 
than  the  gravity  of  my  predicament. 

Never  had  Fate  turned  a  crazier  trick  in  all 
the  million  years  of  her  topsy-turvy  existence. 

I  had  pranced  forth  to  the  tourney,  a  valiant 
Sir  Galahad,  only  to  return  chained  to  the 
hangman's  mule. 

As  a  fair  flower  may  trade  its  subtle  essence 
for  the  stench  of  decay,  just  so  did  my  deadened 
passion  poison  the  last  lingering  fragrance  of 
devotion  to  Gurtha.  She  had  merely  worn  me 
for  a  glove,  and  when  her  own  white  fingers 
were  imperilled  by  the  contact,  she  had  dis- 
carded me  with  no  more  compunction  than  she 
would  have  bestowed  upon  a  rejected  pair  of 
mousquetaires. 


152  The  Stolen  Throne 

"I'll  tell  the  whole  damned  truth,"  I  burst 
forth. 

"You'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort.  You'll  keep 
a  stiff  upper  lip  and  stay  in  the  game.  You've 
only  been  an  ass  up  to  now — but  you  shan't  be- 
come a  cur." 

It  was  Antsley.  "I  can't  come  in,"  he  said, 
"they've  sent  a  guard  along  to  see  that  I  don't 
smuggle  you  out  in  my  tobacco  pouch.  You're 
supposed  to  be  incommunicado,  but  Whit- 
worth  managed  this  much  for  me  and  you  will 
have  to  be  content  with  what  the  'guards  grant 
us.'  Oh,  but  you've  messed  yourself  up.  I 
don't  know  where  to  start !  So  I'll  begin  with 
God-blessing  you  for  being  the  noblest  gentle- 
man I  ever  knew  and  then  damn  you  as  the 
biggest  chump!  You  saved  the  day  for  her 
when  nothing  short  of  a  miracle  could  have 
availed.  It  was  the  boldest  and  biggest  and 
quickest  thing  I  ever  saw.  There's  the  'bless 
you'  end." 


I  Enter  the  Fortress  153 

"I  was  an  ass — a  fool." 

"I  but  partly  agree  with  you.  You  are  an 
ass — you  are  a  fool,  and  that's  where  the 
damning  corner  starts.  You  dare  to  blame 
Gurtha" 

"Blame  her,"  I  cried.  "Blame  her — I  curse 
her — I  hate  her !  Oh,  these  are  not  heroics — 
She  has  made  my  life  precious  to  myself  by  her 
own  valuation  of  its  cheapness.  I  was  ready  to 
die  for  her.  God  knows,  I  would  have  gone  to 
everlasting  sleep  with  thanks  to  my  Maker  that 
he  had  let  me  live  to  know  her,  if  I  could  have 
had  but  one  smile  to  light  my  way,  one  kind 
word  to  lantern  the  valleys  of  the  eternal." 

"You're  a  fool !"  sneered  Antsley. 

His  words  stung  me  like  a  whip.  Before  I 
could  control  myself,  I  struck  through  the  bars 
and  pounded  him  full  in  the  mouth. 

He  checked  the  blood  with  his  handkerchief. 
He  was  ycry  white. 


154  The  Stolen  Throne 

"I  forgive  that,"  he  said,  "because  your 
hand  and  not  your  heart  dealt  the  blow. 

"You  lost  your  nerve  yesterday  and  you've 
evidently  not  found  it  since.  I  saw  that  you 
did  not  realize  what  you  had  done  the  moment 
you  began  to  rave  at  your  arrest.  The  blessing 
is  that  you  raved  in  English.  Had  one  of  a  hun- 
dred men  there  understood  you,  you  would 
never  have  reached  this  room.  When  you 
crunched  your  heel  into  her  strip  of  lace  (and 
at  that  under  her  very  eyes)  I  could  hardly 
refrain  from  doing  as  much  with  your  head." 

"If  I  could  have  that  hour  over  again  I 
would  do  far  more,"  I  cried. 

"Now  you're  getting  long-eared  again.  You 
can  see  less  with  two  eyes  and  think  less  with 
one  brain  than  a  year-old  baby.  Listen  to  me 
and  maybe  I  can  wedge  an  idea  into  your  head. 
When  Blitzow  accused  Gurtha  of  Alexis' 
death  she  knew  that  this  was  a  lie,  and  she 
knew  that  without  proof,  Russia  would  not  be 


I  Enter  the  Fortress  155 

allowed  to  move  a  hand  against  her.  At  least 
she  felt  in  no  great  peril.  Then  you  came 
bungling  along.  I  am  not  going  to  take  away 
anything  from  the  glory  of  that  hour.  It  made 
me  proud  to  be  an  Englishman.  But  that  was 
because  I  knew  and  understood  what  you  were 
about,  you  big,  old  blundering  bear !  But  try 
and  imagine  how  she  viewed  it  all.  In  you  she 
saw  another  pretender  arise  from  the  ashes 
of  Alexis.  She  thought  you  a  spy — a  sneak. 
Her  memory  went  back  to  what  had  transpired 
in  the  rose  garden  and  at  her  rendezvous  with 
you.  She  burned  at  the  thought  of  your  cheap 
treachery.  From  her  view-point,  she  could  see 
only  the  black  lining  of  your  silver  impulse. 
She  perceived  in  Alexis'  death  merely  a  con- 
venience for  yourself.  She  owed  you  no  con- 
sideration— she  owed  herself  the  opportunity 
to  rid  the  throne  of  a  dangerous  claimant  and 
to  grant  Russia  the  justice  she  demanded. 
Seeing  as  she  did,  she  could  only  act  as  she  did. 


156  The  Stolen  Throne 

It  was  your  cue  to  drop  tragedy  and  play  out 
the  farce.  In  the  end,  the  truth  is  bound  to 
come  out  and  then,  unless  I'm  all  out  of  gear  on 
my  knowledge  of  women,  you'll  get  those 
medicinal  tears  for  which  you  were  just  ach- 
ing. Meanwhile,  calmly  resting  between  the 
acts,  with  pipe  and  book  and  a  superb  view  of 
nature  before  you,  con  over  your  repertoire, 
Sir  Troubadour,  and  wait  for  the  curtain  to 
rise  again.  I  must  go  now — 'the  standing 
army*  here  is  getting  footsore." 


The  Shadow 
on  the  Shade 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


"The  Shadow  on  the  Shade." 

HE  slash  in  my  side  had  thus  far 
given  me  but  little  trouble. 
Alexis  had  cut  where  there 
were  no  great  veins,  so  that  my 
own  crude  "first  aid"  bandag- 
ing had  sufficed.  However,  I 
must  have  lost  much  more  blood  than  I  thought 
and  it  was  because  of  weakness  as  well  as  ex- 
citement that  I  had  swooned  at  the  palace. 

When  I  struck  Antsley  I  probably  gave  my 
side  a  tremendous  wrench,  for  after  he  had 
gone,  I  felt  a  hot  trickling  within  my  shirt,  fol- 
lowed by  a  feeling  of  vertigo.  I  reached  out  to 
-steady  myself  on  the  post  of  my  bed,  but  missed 
it — I  knew  that  I  fell,  but  after  that  there  was 
only  nothingness. 

I  lay  on  the  cold  stones  through  all  that 
night.    The  sentry  found  me  there  shortly  after 


160  The  Stolen  Throne 

daybreak.  By  this  time  I  was  mumbling  in  the 
grip  of  a  malicious  fever.  I  can  thank  ex- 
traordinarily good  surgery  for  my  life. 

My  wound  was  cleansed  and  properly 
bandaged.  After  that,  I  was  removed  to  the 
military  hospital,  where  I  tossed  in  delirium  for 
days  without  a  single  lapse  to  consciousness. 

During  this  entire  time  I  was  under  constant 
espionage,  though  I  was  accorded  every  pos- 
sible consideration. 

These  facts  I  learned  from  Antsley,  the  sec- 
ond day  after  the  breaking  of  the  fever.  The 
privilege  of  the  hospital  was  another  special 
dispensation  secured  through  the  kindly  offices 
of  the  embassy.  Criminals  were  usually  re- 
moved to  the  sick  ward  of  the  city  prison — a 
horrible,  depressing  place  from  which,  I  am 
sure,  I  should  never  have  emerged. 

Bit  by  bit  and  more  and  more  as  my 
strength  returned,  Antsley  reviewed  for  me 


The  Shadow  on  the  Shade  161 

the  events  which  had  transpired  during  my 
confinement. 

For  a  few  days  after  Alexis'  death  there  had 
been  no  indication  of  action  on  the  part  of 
Blitzow,  and  his  recall  to  St.  Petersburg  had 
been  immediately  followed  by  the  retirement  of 
the  Russian  troops,  after  which  the  "Determi- 
nation" weighed  anchor  and  steamed  away  to 
join  the  fleet  cruising  in  the  North  Sea. 

The  day  for  my  trial  on  the  charge  of  murder 
had  not  yet  been  determined,  for  obvious  rea- 
sons. My  disavowal  of  allegiance  to  England 
made  it  impossible  for  Burton  to  intercede  for 
me,  except  in  an  unofficial  capacity,  but  even  his 
efforts  to  secure  my  release,  under  the  guar- 
anty of  my  immediately  leaving  Stromburg, 
.were  of  no  avail.  Gurtha,  as  well  as  her  min- 
isters, turned  a  deaf  ear  to  every  intermedia- 
tion and  refused  to  interfere  in  any  way  with 
the  progress  of  justice.  After  I  was  able  to 
sit  up  Burton  himself  came  and  we  spent  an 


1 62  The  Stolen  Throne 

earnest  hour  together.  I  could  see  that  he  was 
moved,  despite  the  calmness  of  his  tones.  We 
chatted  together  for  a  few  moments — I  eagerly 
questioning,  he  glibly  answering  me,  concern- 
ing the  great  world-events  which  had  trans- 
pired during  my  illness.  Then  with  character- 
istic abruptness  he  came  to  the  point. 

"Parker,"  he  said,  "I  have  just  come  from 
the  chancellor,  and  between  the  two  of  Us,  we 
are  going  to  get  you  out  of  this  trouble.  This 
is  our  plan.  As  a  citizen  of  Stromburg,  you  are 
subject  to  the  laws  of  the  duchy,  and  as  there 
is  but  one  punishment  for  capital  crimes — 
ahem — we  need  not  dwell  upon  that  point. 
Now,  since  you  have  relinquished  your  allieg- 
ance  to  Great  Britain,  naturally  there  can  be  no 
official  aid  from  England.  But  why  repudiate 
your  rights  as  a  British  subject?  Why  con- 
tinue this  mad  masquerade  ?  I  can  predict  but 
one  outcome.  Yours  is  a  hare-brained  dream, 
as  wild  as  it  is  impossible.  There  are  docu- 


The  Shadow  on  the  Shade  163 

ments  it  is  true, — proofs,  if  you  will, — of  the 
survival  of  the  Duke  Andreas.  But  right  does 
not  make  might  and  in  the  courts  of  royalty,  as 
well  as  in  those  of  jurisprudence,  possession  is 
nine  points  of  the  law.  So  that,  granting  you 
were  free  and  at  liberty  to  plan  and  plot  to  your 
heart's  desire,  you  would  never  reach  your 
goal.  On  the  other  hand,  you  are  in  actual 
peril — in  acute  danger  of  your  life.  Your 
public  confession  has  already  doomed  you. 
There  seems  no  escape.  At  least  there  seemed 
no  escape,  until  an  hour  ago,  and  I  am  here  to 
open  the  prison  doors  and  offer  you  freedom, 
if  you,  by  a  single  sentence,  will  yourself  give 
me  the  key." 

Burton  paused — "You  must  renounce  your 
-pretensions  to  the  duchy  and  appeal  to  me  as  an 
English  citizen.  I  shall  then  be  able  to  act  in 
your  behalf,  not  as  Burton  the  friend,  but  as 
Burton  the  official.  There  will  be  no  hitch.  I 
have  the  assurance  of  those  in  authority  that 


164  The  Stolen  Throne 

in  the  event  of  your  accepting  these  conditions, 
an  order  for  your  release  will  be  made  out  at 
once,  with  the  understanding  that  you  are  to 
cross  the  frontier  and  never  return.  There 
awaits  merely  your  signature  to  this  paper, 
which,  attested  by  proper  witnesses,  spells 
'open  sesame'  to  you." 

I  did  not  take  the  paper.  "Is  this  the  sug- 
gestion of  the  Duchess?"  I  asked. 

Burton  lifted  his  finger  warningly  and  shook 
his  head  "No." 

"Then,"  I  said  with  a  determination  that 
rang  through  every  fibre  of  me,  "I  will  not 
sign  it." 

Burton  stared  at  me  in  amazement.  "Do  I 
really  understand  you  ?"  he  asked. 

"If  you  mean  that  I  reject  your  offer — you 
do  not  understand."  And  then  my  tones  soft- 
ened as  I  leaned  over  and  clasped  his  hand. 
"Don't  think  me  ungrateful.  Some  day  I  shall 
show  you  that  I  am  not.  You  do  not  know — 


The  Shadow  on  the  Shade  165 

you  cannot.  I  am  not  sure  that  I  do  myself. 
But  there  is  something  at  stake  bigger  than  all 
the  kingships  since  Pharaoh's — honor!  I 
thank  you  deeply  for  what  you  have  done,  and 
I  thank  you  more  for  what  you  wish  to  do. 
You  cannot  help  me.  I  must  do  that  for  my- 
self. Good-bye." 

Then  when  he  was  gone  I  sat  in  the  russet 
light  and  built  a  ladder  of  fancy  to  a  castle  of 
dreams.  But  I  meant  that  the  ladder  should  be 
strong  enough  to  bear  me  up,  and  that  the 
castle  should  undream  itself  into  one  of  grey 
stone,  with  the  ensign  of  Stromburg  a'top. 

Slowly  and  surely  as  a  man  picks  his  way 
up  a  jutting  mountain  side,  so  did  I  climb  out 
of  the  tangle  into  which  I  had  so  unwittingly 
thrown  myself,  until  I  could  see  before  me  the 
goal  of  attainment.  Gurtha  had  chosen  her 
course — I  now  determined  mine.  Chance  had 
placed  strange  cards  in  my  hands,  and  I  meant 
to  play  them. 


1 66  The  Stolen  Throne 

Antsley  did  not  come  until  the  afternoon  fol- 
lowing Burton's  visit. 

"That  fever  of  yours  must  still  be  raging  or 
the  last  spell  left  you  without  a  mind,"  he  said. 
"Burton  thinks  that  you  have  gone  insane.  He 
has  given  you  up  in  disgust,  and  I  don't  blame 
him.  What  is  your  game?" 

"Wait— you'll  see,"  I  said. 

"Look  here,  Parker,  in  all  seriousness,  are 
you  going  to  stick  to  this  melodramatic  role  of 
yours  ?" 

I  nodded  assent. 

"Do  you  realize  into  what  danger  you  are 
running?" 

I  smiled. 

"I  suppose  you  imagine  yourself  a  heroic 
figure — but  no  one  else  thinks  so — half  of 
(  Stromburg  takes  you  for  a  knave,  and  the 
other  half  thinks  you  are  an  ass.  I  have  come 
here  to-day  with  the  intention  of  carrying 
word  back  to  Burton  that  you  have  dropped 


The  Shadow  on  the  Shade  167 

your  tomfoolery.  If  reason  can't  move  you,  I 
shall  take  the  matter  into  my  own  hands  and 
disclose  the  whole  affair.  I  have  the  papers 
securely  locked  away  in  my  trunk  with  the 
chest  of  jewels  and  if  you  don't " 

Just  then  a  shadow  moved  across  the  win- 
dow. 

Leaping  to  my  feet  I  plunged  my  hand  under 
the  drawn  shade  and  struck  a  man's  hat.  We 
could  hear  it  fall,  but  by  the  time  we  raised 
the  shade  the  eavesdropper  had  disappeared. 
Lying  beneath  the  window,  however,  was  the 
cap  of  an  officer  of  cavalry. 

"Antsley,  run  outside,"  I  said,  "and  get  that. 
I'll  watch  from  the  window." 

But  I  had  counted  without  my  host — in  this 
instance  a  host  in  uniform." 

A  hand  was  laid  upon  my  shoulder  and  the 
guard,  despite  my  expostulation,  drew  me 
away  from  the  window,  but  not  before  I  had 
noted  a  very  peculiar  thing. 


/  See  a 
Signet  Ring 


CHAPTER  XV. 


"/  See  a  Signet  Ring!" 

NTSLEY  did  not  return  that 
day,  nor  the  following.  I  ad- 
dressed a  note  to  Burton,  re- 
questing him  to  come  and  see 
me,  but  after  waiting  the 
greater  part  of  a  week,  without 
sign  of  either  him  or  Ted,  I  knew  that  I  had 
been  cut  off  from  all  communication  with  my 
friends. 

At  first  I  was  puzzled  at  this  sudden  with- 
drawal of  the  privileges  which  had  been 
hitherto  allowed  me,  but  after  some  thought 
I  was  forced  to  the  conclusion  that  the  man 
at  the  window  lay  at  the  bottom  of  the 
trouble. 

How  much  had  he  heard?  What  did  he 
know?  Who  was  he?  What  had  become  of 
Antsley  ? 


172  The  Stolen  Throne 

For  the  first  time  since  my  imprisonment,  I 
really  hungered  for  liberty.  The  mystery  of 
the  affair  was  setting  me  a-quiver  with  anxiety. 
In  the  beginning  I  had  not  thought  of  escape. 
But  as  day  after  day  passed  and  no  word  came 
to  me  from  the  outside  world,  I  began  to  plan 
for  my  liberty. 

At  first  thought,  the  project  seemed  impos- 
sible. I  was  sequestrated  in  a  small  wing  of 
the  main  floor. 

The  view  from  my  window  only  showed  a 
stretch  of  shrubbery,  beyond  which  I  could  see 
nothing.  And  day  and  night  there  was  my 
guardian — always  at  hand — never  condescend- 
ing to  fellowship — rigid  in  the  observance  of 
his  every  order. 

In  the  beginning  I  essayed  bribery.  They 
had  removed  all  my  valuables  at  the  prison,  evi- 
dently anticipating  some  such  procedure. 
Therefore  I  could  only  promise.  But  my  first 
approaches  met  with  such  a  contemptuous  re- 
ception that  I  was  discouraged  immediately. 


I  See  a  Signet  Ring  173 

Then  I  tried  to  gain  the  man's  confidence, 
but  beyond  a  little  more  humanity  in  his  bear- 
ing toward  me,  I  failed  to  inspire  any  attitude 
which  could  possibly  be  regarded  as  justifiable 
foundation  for  so  wilful  a  dereliction  as  that 
which  I  had  hoped  to  accomplish.  One  morn- 
ing I  awoke  to  find  the  cot  next  to  mine  occu- 
pied by  a  soldier  suffering  from  a  badly 
crushed  arm.  He  had  been  thrown  from  his 
horse  and  not  being  able  to  loosen  his  foot 
from  the  stirrup,  the  frightened  beast  had 
trampled  him  cruelly. 

A  screen  had  been  set  between  our  cots.  It 
was  a  twofold  affair,  with  the  panels  filled  in 
with  silk,  strung  along  rods.  Close  beside  this, 
a  table  was  placed,  to  gain  space  for  which  the 
screen  had  been  shoved  against  my  bed.  I 
could  not  see  the  face  of  the  patient  as  the 
surgeon  bent  over  him  to  maKe  his  examina- 
tion. A  moment  afterwards  he  straightened 
uj?  «md  lifting  a  case  from  the  floor,  drew  from 


174  The  Stolen  Throne 

it  bandages,  some  plaster  of  paris,  and  lastly  a 
sponge  and  a  bottle  which  emitted  the  unmis- 
takable odor  of  chloroform.  Then  he  placed 
the  satchel  back  on  the  floor. 

Solzer,  my  guard,  was  assisting  him. 

First  emptying  the  chloroform  onto  a  sponge 
he  handed  the  bottle  to  Solzer  with  instructions 
to  cork  it  immediately.  The  soldier  placed 
the  bottle  back  on  the  table  and  bent  forward, 
watching  the  patient  succumb  to  the  anaesthetic. 

At  that  moment  I  chanced  to  glance  down- 
ward and  observed  that  the  satchel  had  been 
shoved  half  way  under  the  screen.  It  lay 
open  and  among  other  things  I  saw  several 
empty  bottles  lying  inside. 

Keeping  my  eyes  fixed  on  the  slit  between  the 
folds  of  the  screen,  I  reached  down  and  man- 
aged to  secure  one  of  the  empty  phials.  Draw- 
ing the  cork  with  my  teeth,  I  held  the  flask  in 
one  hand  and  reached  for  the  bottle  of  chloro- 
form. It  was  a  trying  moment,  but  I  sue- 


I  See  a  Signet  Ring  175 

ceeded.  Then  while  the  air  was  still  full  of  the 
fumes  from  the  sponge,  I  partly  filled  my  bottle 
and  returned  the  other  to  the  table,  without 
having  distracted  their  attention. 

Soon  afterwards,  the  anaesthetic  having 
taken  effect,  the  fracture  was  reduced  and  the 
injured  arm  placed  in  a  plaster  cast. 

The  man  lay  unconscious  until  dusk.  When 
he  emerged  from  his  stupor  he  began  to  groan 
for  water.  Solzer  had  in  the  meanwhile  re- 
moved the  screen  and  had  placed  his  chair 
where  he  could  keep  an  eye  on  both  of  us — I, 
for  purposes  of  my  own,  having  complained  of 
a  severe  attack  of  neuralgia,  which  was  suf- 
ficient excuse  for  my  remaining  in  bed.  At  my 
request  the  doctor  had  bandaged  my  face  with 
-a  cloth  saturated  with  a  chloroform-liniment, 
the  odor  of  which  nearly  nauseated  me. 

When  the  patient  called  for  water,  the  guard 
picked  up  a  pitcher  and  filled  it  from  a  spigot 
at  the  end  of  the  room. 


176  The  Stolen  Throne 

The  stranger's  back  was  turned  to  me.  One 
of  his  heavy  cavalry  boots  lay  under  his  cot,  one 
stood  at  the  head  of  his  bed.  While  Solzer  was 
filling  the  pitcher,  I  reached  out  and  grasping 
the  boot  nearest  me,  hid  it  under  my  coverlid. 

The  sick  man  slept  fitfully  until  about  eleven 
o'clock,  and  then  fell  into  a  deep  slumber,  at- 
tested by  very  vigorous  snores. 

I  had  been  feigning  sleep  for  more  than  an 
hour.  When  midnight  struck,  I  opened  one 
lid  for  a  peep  and  saw  that  my  guardian  was 
nodding.  I  lay  still  for  some  while,  to  make 
sure,  then  I  lifted  the  coverlid,  held  the  heavy 
boot  by  the  strap  and,  giving  it  a  good  swing, 
crashed  the  man  fair  upon  his  temple  with  the 
iron-shod  heel.  So  well-aimed  was  the  blow, 
that  he  did  not  even  utter  a  moan  but  only 
slipped  a  few  inches  in  the  chair  and  lay  per- 
fectly motionless.  However,  I  had  awakened 
the  patient,  but  before  he  could  cry  out  I 
leaped  from  the  bed  and  stupefied  him  with  a 


I  See  a  Signet  Ring  177 

handkerchief  saturated  with  chloroform, 
meanwhile  holding  him  by  the  throat  until  I 
felt  him  grow  perfectly  quiet. 

After  which,  removing  the  bandage  from 
my  face,  I  gagged  Solzer  with  the  rag,  lifted 
him  into  my  cot  and  turning  his  face  downward 
tied  his  feet  and  hands.  This  accomplished,  I 
drew  the  bedclothes  over  his  head  and  slipped 
into  the  injured  man's  uniform  which  lay  neatly 
folded  on  a  chair.  I  examined  his  pockets  and 
was  gratified  to  find  a  number  of  gold  pieces. 
But  imagine  my  surprise,  when  my  eye  fell 
upon  nothing  less  than  one  of  the  carved  signet 
rings  which  I  had  found  in  Sir  Seton's  chest. 
Turning  the  sleeper  over,  I  studied  his  face.  It 
was  my  friend,  was  the  little  whipper-snapper, 
Lieutenant  Jansen. 

How  in  the  world  had  he  come  into  posses- 
sion of  the  signet?  What  did  it  mean?  One 
thing  at  least,  was  certain — the  Stromburg 
jewels  had  been  stolen ! 


My  Friend 
the  Captain 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
'My  Friend  the  Captain" 

|T  did  not  suit  my  purpose  to 
enter  the  town  at  once,  so  I 
struck  out  in  a  northern  direc- 
tion, and  after  a  few  moments 
I  came  to  a  wagon  road  which 
carried  me  into  a  forest.  This 
I  recognized  as  part  of  the  palace  grounds. 
After  a  while  I  found  a  wall  and  quickly  scal- 
ing this,  I  walked  on  in  a  wide  circle,  so  that  I 
managed  to  enter  the  town  in  an  opposite  direc- 
tion from  the  hospital.  It  was  almost  daybreak 
before  I  reached  the  legation.  I  slipped 
through  the  court  to  the  rear  of  the  house,  and 
picking  up  a  pebble  threw  it  against  Whit- 
-  worth's  window.  I  had  to  repeat  the  perform- 
ance several  times  before  I  could  awaken  him. 
Then,  when  he  looked  out  for  the  cause  of  the 
disturbance,  I  called  to  him  in  a  loud  whisper 
to  come  down  and  let  me  in. 


1 82  The  Stolen  Throne 

"Who  is  it?"  he  asked. 

"Parker,"  I  replied.  "But  don't  stop  to  talk 
— get  this  door  open  before  anybody  sees  me 
here." 

He  descended  without  further  ado  and  slid 
the  bolt  of  the  tradesmen's  entrance.  We 
reached  his  chambers  without  disturbing  the 
household. 

"Stand  here,"  he  said,  "until  I  make  a 
light." 

"Close  that  window  first  and  draw  the  shut- 
ters," I  cautioned.  Then  in  as  few  words  as 
possible  I  told  him  of  my  escape  and  the  dis- 
covery I  had  made  at  the  last  moment.  "And 
now  for  the  love  of  man,  tell  me  when  you  last 
saw  Antsley  ?" 

"I  must  ask  you  the  same  question,"  was  his 
stunning  reply.  "He  left  Stromburg  almost  a 
fortnight  ago  and  not  a  word  have  I  had  from 
him  since  he  went,  not  to  mention  the  fact  that 
he  neglected  even  to  bid  me  good-bye." 


My  Friend  the  Captain  183 

"But  hasn't  he  written  to  me  in  care  of  the 
legation  ?" 

"Not  a  word  has  been  received  from  him. 
Didn't  you  know  that  he  had  gone  away?" 

"Know,"  I  murmured,  "I  know  nothing.  I 
haven't  heard  from  him  or  the  world  since  the 
afternoon  he  dashed  out  of  the  hospital  to  inter- 
cept that  chap  at  the  window." 

I  detailed  the  incident  to  Whitworth. 

"Good  God/'  he  cried,  "there's  more  in  this 
than  either  of  us  sees.  You  say  the  eavesdrop- 
per was  an  officer.  How  do  you  know  ?" 

"He  left  his  cap  behind  him  when  he  went 
away.  Now  what  was  it  that  seemed  familiar 
to  me  in  that  cap  ?  There  was  something  that  I 
can't  remember  at  this  moment — oh,  let  me 
think — no,  it's  no  use.  My  head's  all  a-whirl 
"with  the  excitement  of  to-night's  events." 

"Don't  try  to  remember.  It'll  come  to  you  a 
little  later.  Let's  return  to  the  theft  of  the 
jewels.  Are  you  certain  that  they  have  been 
stolen?" 


1 84  The  Stolen  Throne 

"I  am  sure  of  it.  Antsley  had  them  in  his 
trunk — he  told  me  so  that  afternoon — and,  by 
George,  I'm  sure  that  Antsley's  disappearance 
is  mixed  up  in  that  matter." 

"How  so?" 

"Well,  if  he  had  come  back  to  the  hotel  and 
found  his  trunk  rifled,  he'd  never  have  left  here 
until  he  recovered  everything  or  found  the 
thief.  They  must  have  made  away  with  him 
first." 

Then  came  another  surprise. 

"Antsley  was  not  made  away  with — of  that 
at  least,  I  am  certain.  He  left  the  Continental 
with  all  his  baggage  and  bought  a  ticket  for 
London." 

"Then  how  did  Jansen  get  this  ring?" 

"That's  too  much  of  a  question  for  me  to 
answer." 

"And  why  hasn't  Ted  written  to  me  ?  Surely 
he  is  concerned  about  my  plight." 

"Perhaps  he  has  and  the  letters  were  never 
delivered  to  you." 


My  Friend  the  Captain  185 

"But  he  would  have  addressed  them  in  your 
care.  He'd  not  be  so  foolish  as  to  send  them 
to  the  hospital,  where  he  knows  they  would 
surely  be  intercepted.  They  would  not  dare 
tamper  with  the  Legation's  correspondence, 
— unless " 

"Unless  what?" 

"Unless  the  Duchess  is  behind  the  whole 
affair." 

"In  what  manner  ?" 

"Perhaps  she  forced  Antsley  to  cross  the  bor- 
der," I  ventured.  "He  is  my  friend  and  they 
may  not  want  him  in  Stromburg,  knowing  cer- 
tain matters  as  he  does." 

"But  if  that  were  the  case,  he  would  surely 
have  appealed  to  us.  He  is  an  Englishman 
and  can  demand  our  protection.  No,  I  am  sure 
Gurtha  was  not  concerned  in  his  departure." 

"Did  he  leave  no  word  at  the  hotel  ?  Could 
you  learn  nothing  there  ?" 

"Well,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  until  this  morn- 


1 86  The  Stolen  Throne 

ing,  I  had  no  idea  that  there  was  anything  mys- 
terious in  the  matter.  I  was  surprised  to  hear 

V 

that  he  had  left  Stromburg,  and  when  I  learned 
that  he  did  not  leave  even  so  much  as  an  'auf- 
weidersehen'  for  either  Burton  or  myself,  I 
must  confess  that  the  only  emotion  I  experi- 
enced, was  one  of  anger." 

"Then  you  learned  nothing  from  the  hotel 
people  ?" 

"Nothing  except  that  he  seemed  to  have 
made  up  his  mind  very  quickly  and  that  our  old 
acquaintance,  Captain  Helzer,  accompanied 
him  to  the  railway  station." 

"That's  it — I  remember  now.  Helzer's  the 
man,"  I  cried. 

"Remember  what?" 

"Whitworth,"  I  said,  "Antsley  is  somewhere 
in  Stromburg — unless  he  is  dead.  Do  you  re- 
member the  quarrel  at  the  cafe  the  night  we 
came  here?  Well,  the  next  day,  when  we  ex- 
pected a  challenge  from  little  Jansen,  he  sent 
Captain  Helzer  with  a  message  of  apology !" 


My  Friend  the  Captain  187 

"What  has  that  to  do  with  the  present  dis- 
cussion ?" 

"It  has  this  to  do.  The  captain  became  very 
drunk  and  garrulous.  He  boasted  of  his  sweet- 
hearts— showed  us  letters — photographs — and 
among  other  trophies  of  the  love-chase  a  hat- 
band bearing  his  initials  embroidered  in  silk. 
Whitworth,  there  s  something  significant  in 
Helzer's  leaving  the  hotel  with  Ted,  because 
the  cap  that  lay  under  the  window  had  that  em- 
broidered band  inside!" 

"Then  we'll  find  Helzer  and  get  the  truth 
from  him." 

"How?" 

For  answer  he  left  the  room  and  returned 
with  Burton. 

To  him  we  hurriedly  narrated  the  whole 
story.  When  we  had  finished  he  sat  without 
speech  for  some  while.  "Ring  for  Nicholas," 
he  said.  Then  he  wrote  a  few  words  which  he 
sealed  in  an  envelope  and  addressed  it. 


The  Stolen  Throne 


As  it  was  undesirable  to  allow  the  man  to 
enter  the  room  on  account  of  my  presence, 
Burton  halted  him  in  the  hall. 

"Go  with  this  at  once  to  the  Chancellor  and 
return  with  an  answer." 

When  the  man  had  gone  he  came  back  to 
his  seat  and  resumed  his  musing  pose. 

"If  we  can  find  Helzer — we'll  find  every- 
thing," he  said,  at  last.  "And  we'll  find  Helzer 
if  every  soldier  and  policeman  in  Stromburg 
has  to  be  called  into  the  search.  But  there  is 
another  problem  before  us — what  are  we  going 
to  do  with  you?" 

"I'll  stay  here  for  the  present,"  was  my  au- 
dacious reply.  "And  if  you'll  dig  into  your  old 
clothes  chest  and  get  me  out  a  suit  of  tweeds, 
I'll  begin  to  realize  that  I  have  managed  to 
escape." 

Burton  regarded  me  in  silence.  "It's  com- 
promising," he  said  soberly. 

"Compromises  are  the  bulwark  of  diplom- 
acy," I  replied,  with  a  nervous  laugh. 


My  Friend  the  Captain  189 

"All  right,  then.  Keep  under  cover  and  for 
the  present  we'll  fix  up  accommodations  for 
you.  But  I  can  promise  you  no  prolonged 
shelter." 

I  remained  in  Whitworth's  room  next  morn- 
ing, while  he  and  Burton  left  the  Legation  to 
keep  the  appointment  which  he  had  made  by 
note. 

They  returned  at  noon,  chagrined  and  disap- 
pointed. 

Noting  my  concern  they  detailed  the  inter- 
view for  me. 

The  Chancellor  after  hearing  their  story 
had  sent  for  the  Minister  of  War.  He  at  once 
instituted  inquiries  for  Captain  Helzer  but  dis- 
covered that  he  had  left  Stromburg. 

The  Chancellor,  however,  had  assured  them 
the  matter  would  be  referred  to  the  secret  police 
and  no  stone  be  left  unturned  in  the  endeavor 
to  find  Antsley. 

In  the  afternoon  Whitworth  came  to  me  with 


190 


The  Stolen  Throne 


a  telegram.  It  was  a  reply  to  a  wire  sent  to 
Scotland  Yard. 

"Nothing  known  of  party's  whereabouts. 
Family  last  heard  of  him  from  Stromburg." 

"What  do  you  thing  of  that?"  he  said. 

"I  think  that  you'd  better  look  up  our  friend 
Jansen." 


WTiat 

Whitworth  Found 


CHAPTER  XVII. 
"What  Whitworth  Found." 

T  was  after  dark  when  Whit- 
worth  returned  from  the  hos- 
pital. 

"Did   you    see   Jansen?"    I 
asked. 

He  nodded  assent. 
"Did  he  tell  anything?" 
"All!" 

"Which  means?" 

"That  Antsley  may  be  here  to-morrow. 
General  Strum  issued  an  order  which  gained 
me  instant  admittance  to  the  injured  man.  I 
found  him  in  a  pretty  bad  way  but  gritty  as  a 
Gourka  for  all  his  suffering.  He  hasn't  much 
of  a  show  and  if  he  does  squirm  through  this 
accident,  there's  little  likelihood  of  his  having 
much  use  of  his  arm,  as  the  ligaments  are  torn 


194  The  Stolen  Throne 

horribly  and  it  is  one  chance  in  a  hundred  that 
they  will  ever  knit  properly.'' 

"He  is  still  a  bit  shaken  up  from  the  jolt  which 
you  gave  his  injury.  You  slammed  the  poor 
devil's  arm  against  the  headboard  when  you 
leaped  upon  him  and  they  had  to  re-set  the  frac- 
ture this  morning.  I  tried  to  find  what  steps 
are  being  taken  for  your  recapture  and  was 
surprised  at  the  easy  attitude  of  the  authori- 
ties. Of  course,  I  could  make  only  casual  in- 
quiries, as  too  great  an  interest  in  the  matter 
might  divert  unwelcome  attention  toward  Bur- 
ton and  myself.  What  I  have  found,  leaves  me 
in  a  quandary.  They  are  either  cloaking  their 
plans  with  the  utmost  secrecy  or  (for  some  rea- 
son beyond  my  understanding)  allowing  your 
escape  to  pass  neglected.  I  do  not  think,  how- 
ever, that  you  have  been  traced  here — so,  for 
the  present,  I  see  no  appreciable  danger  of  your 
reprisal. 

"Jansen  is  still  in  the  wing  where  you  were 


What  Whit  worth  Found  195 

quartered  and  for  the  present,  occupies  it 
alone.  This  gave  me  a  full  opportunity  to  talk 
with  him  freely. 

"I  at  once  accused  him  of  participation  in 
the  theft  of  the  jewels  and  Antsley's  disappear- 
ance. At  first  he  laughed  at  me.  'Is  this  the 
reason  of  your  visit?'  he  asked.  'Call  one  of 
the  physicians  and  let  him  hear  you/  he  said. 
'I  fear  that  you  need  treament  as  badly  as  I/ 

"Come,  come,  Jansen,"  I  said,  "it's  all  very 
well  to  carry  out  the  matter  in  a  high-handed 
way  but  we  have  positive  proof  that  you  are 
mixed  up  in  this  scrape." 

"  'Produce  your  proof,'  he  sneered. 

"I  started  to  tell  him  about  the  signet  you 
found  in  his  pocket,  but  upon  second  thought 
Hid  not  do  so,  as  it  might  have  shown  him  the 
source  of  my  information  and  give  him  a 
weapon  for  counter.  So  I  took  a  long  shot. 

"Captain  Helzer  has  confessed,"  I  said. 

"  That's  a  lie,'  he  said,  'he ' 


196  The  Stolen  Throne 

"He  what?"  I  asked  eagerly. 

"But  he  instantly  became  close-mouthed  and 
did  not  answer. 

"Jansen,"  I  said,  "I  am  not  here  on  guess — 
/  know!  I  came,  hoping  that  you  would  see 
how  much  more  wise  it  would  be  to  give  me 
your  aid.  Now  I  have  nothing  to  do  but 
call  upon  the  authorities.  I  wanted  to  save 
you  from  the  consequences  of  your  act — but  I 
must  save  my  friend  at  the  price  of  your  own 
heavy  punishment.  I  am  very  sorry  for  your 
sake  that  I  must  visit  additional  ill  upon  you. 
Good-bye. 

"I  arose  to  go  and  began  to  button  my  glove." 

"  'Why  should  I  do  as  you  ask  ?'  he  muttered 
sullenly." 

"  'Why  should  you  not  ?  I  replied.' 

"  'Why  not/  he  snarled — 'why  not  ?  Be- 
cause he  is  the  friend  of  the  hound  who 
stripped  me  of  my  honor  (meaning  that  affair 


What  Whitworth  Found  197 

with  you  at  the  inn),  because  I  can  gain  noth- 
ing and  lose  much/ 

"  'But  I  promise  you  that  you  shall  not  lose 
anything.  If  you  will  do  what  I  ask  of  you,  I 
pledge  myself  not  to  disclose  the  source  of  my 
information,  whereas,  if  you  are  unreasonable, 
the  facts  will  be  forced  out  of  you.' 

"  'My  friends  are  strong  in  influence !'  he 
blustered. 

"  'But  England  is  stronger,  and  the  Duchess 
herself  could  not  save  you  from  her  anger. 
But  you  have  chosen,  so  I  also,  am  forced  to 
choose." 

"I  made  as  if  to  leave,  but  he  called  me  back 
to  him. 

"  'Don't  go  yet — I  must  think  awhile.' 

"He  lay  with  his  eyes  fastened  upon  space 
and  did  not  speak  for  some  time. 

"Then  lifting  himself  painfully,  he  cast  cau- 
tious eyes  around  the  room  and  beckoned  me 
nearer  to  his  bed. 


198  The  Stolen  Throne 

"First,  he  demanded  that  I  repeat  my  prom- 
ise of  protection. 

"I  assented. 

"  'You're  an  Englishman/  he  said,  'and  I 
shall  take  your  word.  Your  friend  is  safe  and 
will  be  in  no  danger  so  long  as  his  presence 
does  not  threaten  the  liberty  of  certain  persons. 
There  were  three  of  us  originally  but  I  am  out 
of  it  now.  One  of  the  two  is  always  guarding 
him.  I  mention  no  names — that  was  not  a 
part  of  my  compact/ 

"  'But  where  is  he  ?'  I  asked  impatiently. 

"  'At  the  old  mill  near  Biel,  about  ninety 
miles  from  here.  There  are  two  approaches  to 
the  mill.  One  is  by  the  road  and  the  other 
through  the  bed  of  the  stream  which  is  very 
shallow  and  easily  waded/ 

"I  was  carefully  making  note  of  his  instruc- 
tions when  the  surgeon  entered  to  dress  his 
wound  and  insisted  that  I  leave,  as  I  had  al- 
ready remained  with  the  patient  entirely  too 


What  Whitworth  Found  199 

long — so  there  you  have  the  whole  affair — 
shell  and  nut/  " 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  ?"  I  queried. 

"I  shall  take  the  two  o'clock  local  for  Biel." 

"That  is,  we  shall  leave  at  once." 

Whitworth  started  in  to  protest. 

"You  must  not  run  the  risk  of  recapture. 
There  is  only  one  of  them  there  and  I'll  be  able 
to  handle  him." 

"But  two  will  handle  him  twice  as  easily," 
was  my  response,  as  I  took  down  Jensen's  uni- 
form and  b^gan  to  change  my  clothes. 


The  Man 
at  the  Mill 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 
'The  Man  at  the  Mill" 

E  set  out  for  Biel  at  daybreak. 
There  were  but  two  carriages 
to  the  train,  one  with  first-class 
compartment,  in  which  we  re- 
mained undisturbed.  The  jog- 
ging motion  of  the  cars  and  the 
droning  and  drumming  of  the  wheels  wove 
themselves  into  a  steady,  pulsing  measure,  to 
the  spell  of  which  I  soon  succumbed  and  slept. 

I  am  sorry  that  I  missed  the  sun-rise.     It 

must  have  been  glorious,  but  the  sight  that  did 

greet  me  when  the  warmth  of  the  day  softened 

-my  veins  and  soothed  me  into  wakefulness,  was 

a  rarely  wonderful  one. 

Our  track  wound  its  way  through  the  moun- 
tains. The  engine  was  by  no  means  a  high- 
power  one,  and  we  ambled  along  rather  leis- 


204  The  Stolen  Throne 

urely,  at  very  much  the  same  pace  that  one 
would  get  from  a  brisk  canter. 

There  are  granite  quarries  along  the  way 
which  have  been  worked  for  ages.  Looking  up 
one  could  see  the  rifts  of  creamy  white  gleam- 
ing in  the  dusky  sides  of  the  hills,  for  all  the 
world  like  scoopsful  of  cheese  dug  out  by  the 
hand  of  some  hungry  Titan.  Besides  us  ran 
the  road  white  and  dustless,  stretching  in 
meander  and  glaring  brightly,  catching  the  vio- 
let tint  out  of  the  prismatic  light,  until  far  off  it 
lost  itself  in  a  hazy  purple.  This  is  the  country 
of  the  famed  Goldsteiner,  wine  of  Kings,  rare 
as  the  Tokay  of  Hungary,  and  like  it,  now  al- 
most a  myth. 

Early  as  it  was,  the  peasants  were  at  work. 
One  saw  occasionally  kine,  but  of  horses  and 
oxen  practically  none.  For  why  should  good 
stock  be  wasted  on  the  farm  tasks,  when  one 
has  a  strong  wife  and  stalwart  daughters  to 


The  Man  at  the  Mill  205 

bend  to  the  yoke  and  break  their  backs  with  the 
grubbing  hoe  ? 

There  are  castles  here,  too.  Most  of  them 
are  shambling  ruins,  often  just  the  corner  of  a 
wall  jutting  out  against  the  blue  heavens,  stick- 
ing up  from  the  hillside  like  a  single  fang 
left  in  a  wolf's  skull.  Lairs  of  the  wolf  they 
were — in  times  long  gone.  They  were  sullen 
scoundrels,  these  one-time  Lords  of  Strom- 
burg,  with  the  arrogance  and  brutality  of  the 
Teuton  sharpened  by  the  wilder  strain  of 
Attila's  vandalous  Huns. 

The  robber  barons  of  the  Rhine  were  a  dif- 
ferent breed  of  men.  They  prayed  as  hard  as 
they  preyed.  Forays  they  made  against  their 
neighbors  and  bloody  reprisal  they  took  upon 
their  enemies,  and  tribute  they  exacted  by  force 
from  traveller  and  merchant.  But  then,  too, 
they  wielded  their  sword  for  the  Christ  and 
valiantly  they  rode  against  the  Saracen  and 
their  voices  sang  the  lordly  songs  of  the 


206  The  Stolen  Throne 

Crusaders.  But  not  so,  did  the  Lords  of  the 
Sarga.  They  waged  only  their  internecine 
wars — father  and  son.  Pitiless  and  terrible 
are  the  legends  told  in  the  peasants'  huts  even 
to-day,  for  tradition  lives  in  the  mouths  of  the 
people,  and  the  songs  crooned  over  the  farm- 
house cradle  are  the  folk-lore  of  a  race. 

They  held  their  mountains  well,  and  fearless 
and  greedy  indeed,  was  the  bagman  whose  love 
of  gold  led  him  into  the  mountains  of  the  Sarga. 
They  who  did  escape,  carried  such  tales  back 
to  the  low  countries  and  to  Genoa  and  the  Span- 
ish lands,  that  their  fellows  were  well  content 
to  leave  Stromburg  undisturbed  in  its  solitary 
brutality. 

They  were  big  men,  strong,  wonderful  men, 
these  old  land-corsairs,  mighty,  thick  of  chest, 
set  well  upon  their  feet,  with  bulging  calves  and 
knotty  biceps.  They  lived  in  the  open  and 
fared  well  on  the  flesh  of  the  wild  boar  and  the 
fallow  deer.  Under  Kaz,  the  Smith,  they  be- 


The  Man  at  the  Mill  207 

came  a  terrible  menace  to  the  mountain  king- 
doms. Wonderful  was  Kaz,  exulting  in  the 
pride  of  his  Hun  blood.  The  witches  told  him 
that  the  soul  of  Attila  was  reborn  in  him,  and 
as  he  pounded  daily  at  his  mellow-throated 
anvil,  shaping  yactagan  and  pike,  he  sang  the 
songs  of  the  dead  ages,  and  the  red  blood 
mounted  to  his  eyes. 

One  day  he  slit  the  leather  of  his  bellows, 
cast  aside  his  apron  and  marched  forth  at  the 
head  of  his  followers.  From  town  to  town  they 
fought  their  way — to  the  capitol  itself.  And 
the  capitol  fell.  So  Kaz,  the  Smith,  was  Kaz 
the  King.  He  might  have  been  Napoleon,  had 
he  guessed  what  worlds  lay  beyond  the  moun- 
tains. He  might  have  been  Tamerlane  had  he 
-not  looked  into  the  eyes  of  a  gypsy  girl  (the 
world  is  sometimes  as  small  as  a  woman's 
eyes).  And  so  the  conqueror  became  con- 
quered— the  welder  of  chains  wore  them,  and 
the  army  which  he  had  raised,  waited  for.  his 


208  The  Stolen  Throne 

battle-cry  until  their  daggers  clogged  in  the 
sheaths  from  the  rust  on  their  blades.  For  two 
years  they  waited,  and  then  the  king  sold  them 
to  the  Archbishop  of  Treves.  They  became  his 
mercenaries  and  never  again  returned  to 
Stromburg.  They  were  the  flower  of  its  man- 
hood— the  virile  men, — acorns  of  oaks.  In 
their  civil  wars  they  had  slain  the  other  able- 
bodied  men,  and  they  whom  they  left  in  Strom- 
burg,  were  the  sons  of  the  weak,  the  unfit 
— the  old  men  and  the  cowards.  And  so  the 
Stromburg  men  who  came  after  them  were 
weaklings,  but  the  women  were  glorious. 

The  mountains  are  now  quarries  and  vine- 
yards, and  they  who  live  in  the  valleys  come 
and  cut  rocks  and  train  vines. 

As  the  sun  climbed  up  the  heavens,  we 
climbed  down  the  mountains.  We  were  now  in 
the  beautiful  valleys  of  the  Sarga — flat  seas  of 
color,  patched  with  red,  green,  brown  and  yel- 


The  Man  at  the  Mill  209 

low, — a  veritable  quilt  of  flowers  and  garden 
truck. 

Both  of  us  were  sharp  for  coffee  when  we 
reached  Biel.  There  is  an  inn  near  the  train- 
shed,  and  we  lost  no  time  in  breakfasting. 
Whitworth  thought  it  would  be  best  for  us  to 
eat  in  our  room,  and  so  we  had  eggs  and  coffee 
in  a  low-browed  chamber  under  the  eaves. 

We  could  command  the  outlying  country 
from  where  we  sat.  A  small  stream  ran  back 
of  the  house  and  down  a  gully,  from  which 
emerged  the  motionless  sails  of  a  windmill. 

"That's  where  it  is,"  said  Whitworth.  "Let's 
go  over  and  have  a  look." 

"Don't  you  think  we  had  better  wait  until  we 
have  rested  a  bit,"  suggested  I.  "Neither  of 
.jus  has  slept  very  much,  and  it  would  be  just  as 
well  if  we  go  at  this  thing  with  all  our  energies. 
There  is  no  telling  what  we  may  be  put  to  be- 
fore the  day  is  over." 

"There  is  something  in  that,"  he  assented. 


210  The  Stolen  Throne 

But  I  could  not  rest.  I  sat  with  my  eyes 
closed  and  a  thousand  surging  thoughts  pell- 
melling  one  another,  until  I  could  stand  the  in- 
action no  longer.  Leaving  Whitworth,  I 
slipped  down  stairs  and  made  across  the  fields. 
A  brisk  ten  minutes'  walk  brought  me  to  the 
mill.  There  were  no  signs  of  life  about  the 
place,  nor  were  there  any  other  buildings  near 
by.  I  sauntered  past  and  circled  around  the 
building,  trusting  to  see  or  hear  some  signal 
from  Antsley,  but  no  sound  or  sight  rewarded 
my  effort.  And  so  I  returned  to  the  inn  and 
rejoined  Aubrey.  We  lunched  and  were 
served  by  the  son  of  the  landlord. 

"Question  him,"  I  suggested  to  Aubrey, 
speaking  in  English. 

"Is  that  a  mill  over  there,"  he  queried. 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  replied,  "but  I  wouldn't  enter  it 
for  all  the  money  in  the  world." 

"Why  not,"  I  asked. 

"Oh,  it's  full  of  rats  and  ghosts,"  he  replied. 


The  Man  at  the  Mill 2I1 

"Ghosts?"  I  questioned. 

"Certainly,"  he  said,  "I  have  seen  them.  I 
sleep  right  above  this  room  and  at  night  when 
it  is  very  late  a  light  burns  in  the  windows. 
Father  wouldn't  believe  me  when  I  first  told 
him,  but  now  everyone  knows  it." 

"That's  the  place,"  I  whispered  to  Whit- 
worth.  "Wait  until  night-fall  and  we'll  try  our 
luck  again.  You  will  remain  here.  I  may  find 
it  much  easier  to  enter  than  to  leave,  and  if  you 
are  not  free  to  act  it  might  go  hard  with  me." 
Whitworth  saw  the  wisdom  of  my  reasoning 
and  so  as  soon  as  it  was  dark,  I  returned  alone, 
and  wading  through  the  bed  of  the  stream,  as 
Jansen  had  directed,  tried  to  open  the  door.  It 
.  was  not  secured  but  merely  hard  in  its  frame, 
so  I  put  my  shoulder  against  it  and  pressed.  It 
swung  inward  with  a  creak.  Just  then  a  candle 
flickered  above,  and  by  its  dim  light  I  made  out 
the  legs  and  lower  person  of  a  man  standing 


212 


The  Stolen  Throne 


over  a  trap  door.    "Wait,  I  will  let  down  the 
ladder,"  he  said. 

His  voice  was  familiar.  When  the  steps 
were  lowered,  the  man  bent  over  to  steady  the 
top.  Then  I  saw  it  was  Helzer,  and  his  face 
was  that  of  a  man  visited  with  anger  and 
anxiety. 


The  Mill 
Grinds,  Strange  Grist 


CHAPTER  XIX. 
'The  Mill  Grinds  Strange  Grist" 

TRIED  to  close  the  door ;  but  it 
hung  on  tight  hinges  and 
squeaked. 

"Lift  it  up  a  bit,"  directed 
Helzer,  speaking  thickly.  Then 
he  cried  out  impatiently:  "You 
dunderhead!  Don't  you  remember?  I  think 
you  are  drunk.  What  do  you  mean  anyhow, 
by  staying  away  and  leaving  me  alone  here  all 
this  time?  I've  a  mind  to  come  down  and  take 
it  out  of  your  skin." 

The  idea  seemed  to  grow  with  him.  He 
broke  forth  into  a  volley  of  filthy  oaths  and 
having  set  the  candle  on  the  floor,  started  to 
throw  his  leg  over  the  ladder.  It  may  be  that 
it  was  not  resting  squarely  on  the  floor  or,  per- 
haps, the  man  was  careless.  Be  that  as  it  may, 
he  missed  his  footing  and  in  an  instant  he  and 


2i  6  The  Stolen  Throne 

the  ladder  crashed  down  upon  the  flags.  He 
fell  upon  the  side  of  his  head  and  I  heard  the 
snapping  of  the  bone  as  his  neck  broke. 

I  paused  just  long  enough  to  see  that  he  was 
beyond  all  aid,  then  re-set  the  ladder  and 
mounted  it.  The  room  into  which  I  stepped 
was  bare  and  empty;  but  a  door  showed  an- 
other chamber.  I  picked  up  the  candle  and 
softly  turned  the  knob.  The  moonlight  strug- 
gled in  through  a  single  window,  high  up  on 
the  rough  stone  wall.  In  the  corner  a  man  was 
sleeping,  his  body  curled  on  a  rough  pallet  of 
straw,  over  which  a  blanket  was  thrown.  It 
was  Antsley. 

"Ted,"  I  called  softly.  He  did  not  stir.  I 
gave  him  a  shake  and  he  opened  his  eyes  with 
a  look  that  puzzled  me  for  a  moment.  Then 
]my  mind  flashed  back  to  a  night  in  White- 
chapel,  when  I  had  gone  to  find  a  poor  wretch 
of  a  friend,  who  had  been  missing  from  his 
chambers  for  days.  We  traced  him  to  a  reek- 


The  Mill  Grinds  Strange  Grist 217 

ing  hole  where  drug-thralled  wretches  of  the 
slums   gathered   for   the   consolation   of   the 
opium  pipe.    It  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever 
seen  a  man  held  in  the  sleep  of  the  damnable 
poison.    His  eyes  were  just  like  Ted's  now.    I 
tried  to  remember  how  we  had  aroused  him. 
Then  it  came  to  me  that  we  had  dosed  him  with 
black  coffee.    I  fumbled  around  the  room  and 
in  a  corner  happened  upon  a  spirit  lamp  and  a 
pot.    There  was  a  cup  of  mocha  with  which  I 
brewed  a  thick  black  mess  of  coffee  and,  prop- 
ping up  his  head,  tried  to  force  the  blistering 
drink  down  his  throat.    The  burn  of  the  steam- 
ing stuff  stung  the  numbed  lips  and  he  opened 
them  with  an  instinctive  protest  of  pain. 

I  managed  to  get  a  few  drops  through  his 
clenched  teeth.  He  choked  and  coughed,  and 
after  a  bit,  allowed  me  to  pour  the  cup-f ul  down 
his  throat,  moaning  all  the  while.  The  strong 
decoction,  before  long,  worked  its  way  into  his 
veins  and  stimulated  his  heart  to  activity.  He 


2i8  The  Stolen  Throne 

stirred  feebly  and  sat  up,  rubbing  his  eyes  and 
gazed  around  with  the  groping  look  of  a  man 
just  returning  to  consciousness.  His  glance 
rested  on  me.  He  was  evidently  puzzled.  The 
uniform,  perhaps,  threw  him  off  his  track  a  bit, 
for  he  stared  at  me  blankly,  trying  to  compre- 
hend that  it  was  I,  and  yet,  seemingly,  unable 
to  realize  the  fact. 

"It's  all  right,  old  man,"  I  assured  him, 
"Come  on, — brace  up  and  we'll  get  out  in  the 
open  air.  It  will  do  you  good." 

"Wait  a  minute,"  he  said,  "I  can't  quite  take 
it  all  in.  What  are  you  doing  here  and  where 
isHelzer?" 

"I'll  tell  you  all  about  that,  later,"  I  replied. 
"The  important  thing  is  to  get  away  from  here. 
Do  you  feel  fit  now  ?" 

He  drew  his  hand  over  his  brow  with  a  weak 
gesture  and  sank  back  again  on  the  straw. 

"I'm  a  bit  dizzy,"  he  said  weakly.  "That 
•damned  morphine  is  still  in  my  system.  I'm 


The  Mill  Grinds  Strange  Grist  219 

nauseated.    Get  me  a  drink  of  water,  will  you 
please?" 

I  brought  it  to  him  and  he  drained  the  glass 
at  one  gulp  and  motioned  for  more.  I  let  him 
lie  still  after  that ;  but  when  I  saw  him  close  his 
eyes  again,  I  thought  it  best  to  give  him  another 
dose  of  the  coffee.  The  second  cup  had  the  de- 
sired effect  and  seemed  to  clear  away  the  cob- 
webs from  his  brain. 

"How  did  you  get  here?"  he  queried.  "My 
God!  but  it  has  seemed  a  year  since  they  got 
hold  of  me.  You'd  better  look  out  for  Helzer." 

"Ted,"  I  said,  "Providence  has  done  that  for 
us.  Helzer  is  lying  down  stairs  with  a  broken 
neck.  Oh,  no,"  I  hastened  to  assure  him,  as  he 
cast  a  significant  look  at  me,  "it  was  an  acci- 
;•  dent.  He  fell  through  the  trap  and  lit  on  his 
head.  But  how  in  the  world  did  you  come  to 
get  into  this  state  ?" 

"Helzer  did  it  last  night,"  he  said.  "He 
punched  a  hypo  into  me  for  fear  that  he'd  fall 


220  The  Stolen  Throne 

asleep  and  I'd  get  away.  He  was  afraid  to 
trust  to  tying  me  up." 

"Do  you  feel  strong  enough  to  leave?"  I 
asked  him. 

"I  think  I  can  manage  it,"  he  answered, 
"Lend  me  your  hand."  I  held  out  my  arm  and 
he  struggled  to  his  feet.  He  was  dizzy  and 
rocked  a  bit.  I  started  to  lead  him  out.  "Wait," 
he  said,  "I  want  to  get  the  jewels."  He  went 
over  to  the  table  and  threw  it  flat  on  one  side. 
"Unscrew  the  leg,"  he  said.  It  turned  easily 
and  in  an  instant  I  had  removed  it.  "Got  a 
knife  ?"  he  asked.  "There's  a  plug  in  the  end — 
pry  it  out."  I  found  a  very  ingeniously  fitted 
disc,  which  I  removed  with  the  point  of  my 
blade.  The  leg  was  hollow.  The  top  of  it  was 
stuffed  with  papers,  which  proved  to  be  Sir 
Seton's  narrative.  When  I  dug  them  out,  a 
flashing  stream  of  jewels  fell  out  on  the  stones. 
The  two  of  us  bent  down  to  gather  them  up. 


The  Mill  Grinds  Strange  Grist 


"The  most  of  them  are  here,  luckily!"  Ted 
said.  "We'll  go  now." 

I  descended  first;  but  I  looked  away  from  the 
thing  lying  on  the  floor  beside  me.  Then  I  held 
the  ladder  for  Antsley.  He  came  down  care- 
fully and  when  he  reached  the  bottom,  stooped 
over  Helzer's  body  and  holding  the  candle  close 
to  his  face,  peered  earnestly  at  his  late  captor. 

"Parker,"  he  said,  "there's  the  end  of  one  of 
the  biggest  rascals  that  ever  breathed  God's 
clean  air.    He  might  have  been  a  great  man. 
There  was  all  that  constitutes  achievement  in 
his  make-up;  but  he  wasn't  straight  and  the 
crook  in  his  nature  brought  him  to  this.    Yes, 
Helzer,"  he  reflected,  "you  could  have  played 
'the  big  game'  and  you  understood  the  rules 
-  well  enough  not  to  need  marked  backs  on  your 
cards.    There  was  a  lot  to  you—  a  lot." 
Then  he  turned  around  to  me. 
"By  George!"  he  said,  "What  is  the  matter 
with  me?     Here  we  stand  wasting  precious 


222  The  Stolen  Throne 

moments !"  While  he  spoke  he  was  unbutton- 
ing Helzer's  tunic.  He  groped  inside  until  he 
found  the  pocket  for  which  he  was  looking. 

"They're  here,  old  man!"  he  said,  "Wait, 
though, — we'd  better  be  sure."  He  drew  forth 
a  package  of  papers  and  glanced  through  them 
quickly  by  the  candle  light.  "Now,"  he  said, 
with  a  satisfied  tone,  "we'll  get  out, — but  first 
tell  me,  what  day  is  it  ?" 

"Wednesday,"  I  answered. 

"Then  there's  time,"  he  replied. 

"Time  for  what?"  I  asked. 

"Time  for  us  to  reach  the  Palace, — time  for 
us  to  save  Gurtha." 

Here  was  indeed  a  startling  speech.  But 
when  I  pressed  Ted  for  particulars,  he  put  me 
off  with  an  impatient  gesture. 

"I'll  explain  all  later  on,"  he  said,  "The  im- 
portant thing  at  present  is  to  clear  out  of  this 
place  before  anybody  delays  us.  I'll  tell  you 
everything  on  the  train." 


The  Mill  Grinds  Strange  Grist  223 

"But  we've  got  to  go  to  the  inn  first,"  I  said, 
"Whitworth  is  there  with  me  and  we  must  pick 
him  up."  We  ran  across  the  fields  at  a  sharp 
pace  and  soon  reached  the  house.  I  deemed  it 
best,  however,  that  we  should  not  be  seen,  and 
therefore,  took  a  long  detour  which  brought  us 
to  the  back  garden,  over  the  wall  of  which  we 
leaped.  We  could  see  Whitworth  in  the  room, 
silhouetted  against  the  lamp  glow.  I  whistled 
softly.  He  leaned  out  of  the  window. 

"Aubrey,"  I  called,  "I've  got  Antsley.  Find 
out  what  time  the  next  train  leaves  for  Strom- 
burg,  settle  our  bill  and  join  us  outside."  Whit- 
worth soon  appeared. 

"If  the  schedule  doesn't  get  hung  up,  we'll  be 
able  to  leave  within  half  an  hour."  The  three 
of  us  walked  to  the  station  and  after  a  little 
while  the  wheezing  engine  puffed  into  sight. 

"There's  an  empty  carriage,"  said  Antsley, 
"make  a  dive  for  it." 


224 


The  Stolen  Throne 


I  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief  as  we  closed  the 
door.  Whitworth  turned  around  to  me, 

"Now,"  he  said,  "will  you  please  tell  me  all 
about  it !" 

"My  story  can  wait,"  I  answered  him, 
"There's  a  far  more  important  tale  to  be  heard 
first.  Come  on,  Ted,"  I  cried,  "It's  about  time 
that  we  knew  about  you,  and  since  we've  a  long 
ride  ahead  of  us,  you  may  as  well  begin  at  the 
outset  and  give  us  all  the  details." 


What 
Happened  to  Antsley 


CHAPTER  XX. 
What  Happened  to  Antsley." 

(HEN  I  ran  out  of  the  hospital 
that  afternoon,  my  haste 
aroused  the  suspicion  of  the  at- 
tendants, and  I  was  summarily 
checked  and  plied  with  ques- 
tions. My  explanations  were 
met  wittTshrugs  of  disbelief,  but  I  was  finally 
able  to  secure  my  release.  By  that  time,  natur- 
ally, all  trace  of  our  eavesdropper  was  lost.  My 
first  impulse  was  to  return  to  you,  but  I  re- 
membered that  my  unwary  speech  had  dis- 
closed the  resting  place  of  the  Stromburg 
jewels,  and  the  realization  of  this  unpleasant 
truth  winged  my  steps.  I  jumped  into  a  car- 
riage and  tore  to  the  Continental,  with  all  the 
energy  that  whip  and  double  fare  could  get  out 
of  the  horses.  I  did  not  stop  to  make  inquiry 
at  the  office,  but  leaped  up  the  stairs,  three 


228  The  Stolen  Throne 

steps  at  a  stride,  dimly  conscious  that  Christof 
was  calling  to  me  from  below,  and  hurling  open 
my  door,  ran  plump  into  the  range  of  a  damned 
obtrusive  revolver,  and  incidentally,  Captain 
Helzer. 

"Tlease  shut  the  door/  he  said,  1  can't 
stand  draughts/ ' 

"What  did  you  do?"  I  asked  Antsley. 

"My  dear  boy,"  he  answered  me,  "you  re- 
mind me  of  the  cockney  who  went  punting  with 
his  sweetheart  down  at  Maidenhead.  The  skiff 
had  been  punctured  earlier  in  the  day,  and  the 
hole  had  been  patched  up  with  a  wooden  plug. 
When  he  returned  to  the  landing  he  told  a 
mutual  acquaintance  that  she  had  refused  to 
kiss  him,  whereupon  he  threatened  to  remove 
the  plug  if  she  did  not  alter  her  mind.  'I  sye," 
asks  the  other  chap,  "did  she  kiss  yer  ?" 

"  Well/  replied  Sammy,  scratching  his  chin, 
'yer  ain't  'card  of  no  lydies  bein'  drownded 


What  Happened  to  Antsley 229 

'round  about  Mydenead  wye,  'ere  of  lyte,  'ave 
yer?'" 

"And  so,"  I  stated,  "you  shut  it?" 

"Not  being  more  than  a  common,  ordinary, 
garden  variety  of  fool,  I  did,"  Ted  answered. 
"But  to  get  back  onto  the  main  track: 

"  'Helzer,'  I  said,  'can't  you  stick  that  fool 
pistol  in  some  other  direction?  I  am  supersti- 
tious about  firearms.  I  have  an  idea  that  they 
go  off,  every  now  and  then.  Besides,  it's  bad 
form  to  order  a  man  around  in  his  own  apart- 
ments/ 

"Helzer  smiled.     'Ah,  but  you  have  just 

given  them  up!' 

"Some  one  rapped.  'Don't  move/  he  whis- 
pered. It  is  your  account ;  I  instructed  them  to 
make  it  out  for  you.  Order  him  to  shove  it  un- 
der the  door/ 

"'Look  here,  Helzer'/  I  cried,  after  I  had 
picked  up  the  bill,  'I  think  you've  taken  too  in- 


230  The  Stolen  Throne 

fernally  much  interest  in  my  affairs!     What 
does  all  this  monkey  business  mean?' 

"  'It  means/  he  purred  between  his  puffs, 
'that  you  are  going  to  take  a  little  journey  with 
me.'  He  drew  his  watch.  'You  must  hurry 
if  you  want  to  catch  the  train,  so  start  your 
packing,  and  I'll  explain  while  you  are  at  it.  I 
have  invited  you  to  become  my  guest  at  a  most 
delightful  place  up  in  the  mountains.  As  you 
may  spend  an  indefinite  period  with  me,  you 
will  need  all  your  belongings,  so  be  sure  to  take 
everything  away  with  you/ 

:  'What  are  you  driving  at  ?'  I  demanded. 

:  'Well,  to  be  frank, — the  Stromburg  jewels ! 
Oh,  yes,  it  was  I  who  overheard  you  this  after- 
noon, and,  being  a  wise  man,  I  have  turned 
opportunity  to  practical  account.  On  my  way 
here  I  conceived  a  very  neat  plan.  The  moment 
I  arrived,  I  notified  the  hotel  people  that  you 
had  been  summoned  home  to  England,  and 
wished  your  account  closed  immediately.  I 


What  Happened  to  Antsley 231 

stated  that  you  had  sent  me  ahead  to  straighten 
out  the  details  of  your  departure.  I  did  not  take 
much  risk  of  a  muddle,  as  I  calculated  that  you 
would  dart  by  the  office  when  you  reached  here 
and  lose  no  time  in  getting  to  your  precious 
trunk.  As  you  perceive,  my  deductions  were 
logical.  You  will  now  proceed  to  complete  the 
other  details  for  me/ 

"  'Answer  me  one  question,  will  you,  Helzer  ? 
Why  didn't  you  smooch  the  jewels  while  you 
had  the  chance?' 

"  'Had  is  hardly  the  word,'  he  answered.  "  'I 
have  both  the  opportunity  and  the  jewels,  as 
well  as  yourself.  I  suppose  you  thought  to  re- 
turn and  find  your  rooms  a  mass  of  litter  and 
a  path  of  havoc,  which  would  lead  a  blind  man 
directly  to  me?  My  friend,  I  fear  that  you  do 
not  properly  appreciate  me!  As  you  perceive, 
I  have  not  molested  your  possessions  in  the 
slightest.  My  hand  has  not  touched  a  single 
thing  belonging  to  you.  I  leave  no  trace  of 


232  The  Stolen  Throne 

connection  between  myself  and  the  jewels  in 
your  care.  How  can  I  lie  under  the  stigma  of 
suspicion,  or  for  a  moment  fear  the  idea  of  ac- 
cusation, so  long  as  you,  of  your  own  accord, 
take  your  luggage  and  me  away  with  you? 
For  the  world  will  shortly  behold  us  descend 
together,  chatting  amiably  upon  the  weather, 
or  some  other  equally  innocuous  topic.  We 
shall  enter  a  carriage  and  drive  to  the  railway 
station,  where  you  will  purchase  a  ticket  to 
London.  Your  dear  friend,  Captain  Helzer, 
is  merely  accompanying  you  part  of  the  way  to 
break  the  monotony  of  your  journey.  Why 
should  any  one  be  alarmed  or  entertain  the 
least  doubt  over  our  camaradie?  And  you,  be- 
ing an  unusually  sane  and  level-headed  man, 
will,  I  am  sure,  do  nothing  so  foolish  as  to 
arouse  such  doubt.' 

"  'Oh,  won't  I  ?'  was  my  response.  'You'll 
find  your  basket  of  eggs  pretty  much  of  an 
omelet,  if  you  are  counting  upon  my  passive  ac- 


What  Happened  to  Antsley  233 

quiescence  to  your  brigandage.  I  warn  you 
now,  that  the  moment  you  remove  your  weapon 
from  range,  I  shall  prove  the  biggest  handful 
of  trouble  it  has  ever  been  your  lot  to  tackle!' 

"  ''Allow  me  to  contradict  you !'  he  retorted. 

"As  soon  as  my  effects  were  gathered,  at 
Helzer's  suggestion,  I  rang  for  the  porter. 

"  'Now,  let  me  do  the  talking/  he  stated, 
'and  you  keep  facing  me.  It  may  perhaps  inter- 
est you  to  know  that  I  shall  have  you  covered 
through  my  coat  pocket.  So  I'm  sure  you 
won't  be  gauche  enough  to  interrupt  me,  nor  so 
impolite  as  to  contradict  anything  that  I  shall 
say.' 

"Christof  knocked  at  the  door.  'Let  him  in/ 
said  Helzer. 

"  'Christof/  he  remarked,  'Mr.  Antsley 
wishes  you  to  pay  his  account,  which  he  finds 
to  be  correct.  Secure  a  receipt,  then  return 
and  remove  his  luggage.  We  leave  Stromburg 


234  The  Stolen  Throne 

within  a  half  hour,  so  lose  no  time.  '  Christof 
looked  up  at  me  in  inquiry. 

'  'Do  as  Captain  Helzer  desires/  I  stated. 
Christof  obediently  withdrew. 

'  'Now/  remarked  Helzer,  'listen  closely  to 
what  I  say.  I  have  gone  too  far  in  this  affair 
to  retrace  my  steps.  I  need  funds  more  than 
I  have  ever  wanted  money  in  my  life.  I  am 
running  a  tremendous  risk  to  obtain  these 
jewels,  and  before  I  allow  myself  to  be  blocked 
by  you,  I  shall  not  hesitate  at  the  most  extreme 
measures,  so  that  if  you  still  entertain  any  idea 
of  resistance,  why,  make  up  your  mind  that  I 
intend  to  shoot  you  at  the  first  inclination 
toward  escape  or  outcry. 

"  'When  we  descend  the  stairs,  you  will 
take  my  arm,  and  lean  your  body  close  to  mine. 
I  shall  keep  one  hand  constantly  in  my  pocket, 
and  my  pistol  barrel  will  be  pressed  against 
your  side. 

"  'We  are  going  to  Biel,  where  you  will  hand 


What  Happened  to  Antsley  235 

over  your  keys  to  me.  You  will  remain  there 
until  I  can  dispose  of  the  stones,  and  make  ar- 
rangements to  get  out  of  Stromburg  in  safety. 
I  do  not  mean  to  harm  you  or  cause  you  the 
least  annoyance,  provided  that  you  fall  in  with 
my  desires.  If  you  balk  me,  I  will  kill  you/  ' 
Antsley  paused. 

"Well,  he  had  me.  I  might  have  taken  a 
chance,  but  I  did  not  like  the  percentage.  So 
we  left  the  hotel,  to  all  appearances  on  terms  of 
the  most  intense  intimacy,  and  when  we  reached 
the  station  Helzer  took  possession  of  the  lug- 
gage. As  soon  as  we  arrived  at  Biel  he  brought 
me  to  the  mill.  Here  I  remained  a  close  pris- 
oner. The  place  is  the  rendezvous  of  a  pro- 
Russian  cabal,  and  I  was  kept  under  constant 
_-8urveillance. 

"Helzer's  first  act  was  to  rifle  my  trunk  and 
remove  the  chest.  He  made  a  secret  hiding 
place  for  the  papers  and  jewels  by  boring  a  hole 
in  the  table  leg.  He  could  not  read  English 


236  The  Stolen  Throne 

and  so  he  was  not  able  to  decipher  the  writing. 
There  were  two  other  men  in  the  plot  with  him, 
little  Jansen  and  a  Russian  by  the  name  of 
Bruch.  They  took  turns  guarding  me.  Jansen 
undertook  to  dispose  of  the  stones,  but  Helzer 
would  only  entrust  him  with  a  few  gems  at  a 
time. 

"Their  treatment  was  at  all  times  consider- 
ate, and  save  that  I  did  not  have  a  moment  to 
myself,  I  had  a  fairly  pleasant  time  in  their 
company.  A  fourth  man  used  to  come  to  see 
them,  but  they  never  permitted  me  to  catch 
sight  of  him.  They  would  lock  me  in  and  con- 
fer with  him  in  another  room.  I  managed  to 
get  piecemeal  snatches  of  their  conversation  by 
listening  at  the  door,  and  learned  a  plot  that 
was  under  way  to  prostitute  the  army  for  Rus- 
sia and  make  away  with  Gurtha.  Blitzow's 
hand  was  directing  the  dirty  business,  and  I 
gathered  that  on  a  former  occasion,  a  similar 
plot  had  been  laid,  only  that  time  the  proposi- 


What  Happened  to  Antsley  237 

tion  was  to  replace  Gurtha  with  Alexis.    Your 
coup,  Parker,  upset  that  little  arrangement." 

"Night  before  last,  Jansen  did  not  come  out 
at  the  usual  hour,  and  Helzer  was  obliged  to  re- 
main all  night  guarding  me.  I  noted  that  he 
was  sorely  in  need  of  sleep.  He  had  been  drink- 
ing. His  bleary  eyes  told  of  carousing,  and  he 
could  scarcely  hold  himself  together,  and  I  was 
in  hopes  that  drowsiness  would  throw  him 
off  his  guard.  But  Helzer  was  a  very  cunning 
man.  He  did  not  trust  to  tying  me  up,  realizing 
that  once  he  succumbed  to  the  need  of  rest,  he 
would  probably  sink  into  such  a  deep  stupor, 
that  I  might  accomplish  the  loosening  of  my 
bonds  before  he  awakened.  He  was  a  drug 
habitue,  as  I  soon  found  after  we  had  been  to- 
gether a  little  while.  And  the  devilish  plan  of 
pumping  me  full  of  morphine  occurred  to  him. 
He  jabbed  the  needle  in  me  while  I  was  dozing, 
and  inasmuch  as  I  had  no  opportunity  of  get- 
ting hold  of  anything  to  combat  the  effects  of 


238  The  Stolen  Throne 

the  morphine,  it  was  an  easy  matter  for  him 
to  keep  me  in  a  state  of  semi-coma  afterwards. 
Bruch  and  he  had  been  Blitzow's  agents  in 
Stromburg  for  the  past  year,  and  from  conver- 
sations which  I  had  overheard  I  surmised  that 
Helzer  kept  upon  his  person  the  papers  which 
detailed  the  plot  to  dispose  of  Gurtha.  You 
may  imagine  how  fortunate  for  the  duchess 
your  coming  proved  to-night,  for  Helzer's  ac- 
cidental death  has  placed  in  our  hands  not  only 
this  evidence,  but  the  names  of  hundreds  of 
men  both  in  private  life  and  in  the  army,  who 
have  made  themselves  parties  to  the  treason. 
From  what  I  can  gather,  the  blow  is  to  be 
struck  before  morning,  so  that,  we  had  best 
not  trust  to  any  delay  but  give  immediate  warn- 
ing to  Gurtha." 

Whitworth,  however,  thought  it  advisable  to 
join  Burton  to  our  forces.  "We  can  stop  at 
the  Legation  on  our  way  to  the  Palace  and  at 


What  Happened  to  Antsley  239 

the  utmost,  the  interruption  will  not  take  more 
than  a  few  moments." 

i  I  did  not  agree  with  him,  however,  but  Ants- 
ley  thought  it  perhaps  best  to  follow  out  Whit- 
worth's  suggestion. 

We  made  much  better  time  on  our  journey 
home  than  we  had  in  the  morning,  and  it  was 
some  while  before  midnight  when  we  arrived 
at  Stromburg.  The  three  of  us  burst  in  on 
Burton  just  as  he  was  about  to  tub.  He  took 
in  the  situation  in  a  flash.  He  thought  it  a 
good  plan  to  send  for  the  Chancellor  and  notify 
him  of  the  impending  disaster. 

"I  don't  agree  with  you,"  I  demurred,  "one 
of  us  had  better  go  right  on  to  the  palace,  and 
meanwhile  you  can  sound  the  alarm  and  see 
that  troops  are  sent  to  guard  Her  Grace." 

"On  second  thought,  I  agree  with  you,"  said 
Burton. 

"And  it  will  be  safest  for  you  to  undertake 
the  mission,"  said  Whitworth,  turning  to  me, 


240  The  Stolen  Throne 

"as  you  are  least  likely  to  arouse  suspicion, 
since  you  are  wearing  Jansen's  uniform." 

"And  in  the  next  place  he  knows  a  private 
entrance  to  Gurtha's  apartments/'  added  Ants- 
ley. 

"But,"  cried  Burton,  about  to  start  upon  a 
new  thread  of  speculation. 

Antsley  cut  in  on  him:  "Don't  waste  time," 
he  cried,  "Act !  Act !  If  they  miss  Helzer  and 
grow  suspicious,  the  chances  are  they  will  rush 
events  ahead  of  schedule  and  turn  Hell  loose 
before  we  can  do  anything." 

"When  I  come  to  consider  it,  you  had  better 
go,"  I  suggested  to  Ted.  "When  she  sees 
me "  I  shrugged  my  shoulders  signifi- 
cantly. 

Burton  merely  pointed  to  the  mirror.  "She 
will  never  know  you,"  he  said. 

It  was  true.  There  was  little  resemblance 
between  the  troubadour  of  the  rose  garden  and 
the  booted  soldier  who  faced  me  from  the  pier 


What  Happened  to  Antsley  241 

glass.  The  one  had  been  a  stalwart  figure  of 
a  man.  I  was  now  wasted  from  the  ravages  of 
my  sickness,  and  but  a  semblance  of  my  usual 
self.  The  "me"  she  last  gazed  upon  had  been 
clean-shaven  and  tanned.  The  face  of  the  sol- 
dier was  pale  and  heavily  bearded. 

"I  will  keep  these,"  said  Burton,  gathering 
up  the  papers;  "something  might  happen  to 
you." 

"I  must  have  them,"  I  answered.  "She  may 
not  believe  me.  I  can  risk  no  chance." 

I  left  the  legation  with  the  same  stealth  that 
I  had  entered  it  and  slunk  along  the  streets, 
cautious  of  ear  and  eye.  Twice  I  was  accosted 
by  outposts  of  the  cabal,  but  the  whispered 
password  "Liberty  and  Russia,"  secured  me  in- 
stant release  from  further  annoyance. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


"Carma." 

HEN  I  reached  the  south  gate,  I 
slid  my  revolver  from  my  belt 
and  ran  it  up  my  sleeve,  with 
the  muzzle  resting  against  my 
finger-tip.  I  found  the  entrance 
unguarded,  and  passed  in  with- 
out observation.  When  I  came  to  the  passage 
I  noted  that  it  was  in  darkness  and  instinctively 
paused.  Before  long  I  realized  that  some  one 
was  ahead  of  me  in  the  shadows,  so  near,  that 
I  could  hear  the  pumping  of  his  breath  and  the 
unsnapping  of  the  button  on  his  holster,  as  he 
,  fumbled  for  his  pistol. 

I  whispered  the  password,  at  which  he  sighed 
with  relief  and  drew  nearer. 

"What  kept  you?"  he  complained.  "I  have 
been  here  almost  an  hour.  I  thought  that  l\ 
should  have  to  do  it." 


246  The  Stolen  Throne 

I  mumbled  something  adequate  to  the  query 
and  lapsed  into  silence. 

"Why  doesn't  Carma  come?"  he  exclaimed 
after  a  bit.  "It  is  surely  the  hour !  I  told  you 
that  you  would  not  get  her  to  do  it." 

This  was  becoming  interesting.  Evidently, 
Gurtha  was  to  be  betrayed  by  one  of  her  own 
women.  But  who  was  I,  and  what  was  pre- 
cisely my  mission  ?  Impatient  to  reach  Gurtha 
I  was  just  as  curious  to  learn  my  identity  anc, 
my  expected  share  in  this  night's  work. 

A  sigh.  Another  sigh.  A  third  sigh.  Then 
"Remember,  you  must  divide  fairly  with  me— 
half  the  jewels !" 

Silence. 

"I  was  thinking  how  I  would  do  it,  if  you  had 
not  come.  I  decided  not  to  use  the  knife.  She 
is  so  beautiful,  it  would  be  a  shame  to  mar  her 
loveliness.  I  suppose  I  am  a  sentimental  fool, 
but  Vogel — (ah,  so  at  least  I  was  Vogel!) — 
"I  want  you  to  make  me  one  promise.  Re- 


Carma  247 

member  that  she  is  a  woman.  The  knife  is  all 
right  for  men,  but  to  slide  a  blade  across  her 
soft  throat — ugh !" 

"Well?"  I  ventured. 

"Promise  me  that  you  will  be  merciful — and 
only  strangle  her." 

In  the  darkness,  of  course,  he  had  no  inkling 
of  his  mistake.  He  was  assured  of  my  identity, 
and  his  most  immediate  concern  seemed  to  be 
the  booty.  The  cold-blooded  hyena !  The  kill- 
lust  of  all  my  cave-men  ancestors  rioted  in  my 
blood.  He  was  within  arm-distance  of  me.  I 
emptied  my  lungs,  and  with  the  inhalation  to 
lend  power  to  my  clutch,  I  struck  for  his  throat 
with  one  hand,  and  smashed  him  under  the  ear 
with  the  other.  Fate  guided  the  blind  attack. 
One  abortive  grunt  was  all  that  he  uttered  as 
he  crumpled  to  his  knees  and  relaxed.  And 
then  I  choked. 

When  I  released  my  hold  he  was  utterly  still. 
But  it  was  not  a  moment  for  humanity.  I  un- 


248  The  Stolen  Throne 

buckled  his  sword-belt,  and  throwing  him  upon 
his  face,  strapped  his  elbows  together.  With 
my  own  belt  I  secured  his  feet,  then  slipped  his 
scabbard  into  his  mouth,  and  with  my  scarf, 
bound  the  gag  fast,  with  cruelly  drawn  knots. 

Kicking  the  brute  to  one  side,  I  hastened 
along  the  passage  until  I  came  to  the  slit  of 
light  which  marked  the  entrance  to  Gurtha's 
apartments.  I  leaned  against  the  wall  and 
rested.  Soon  the  door  was  stealthily  opened 
and  a  face  peered  out.  It  was  the  woman  of 
my  former  rendezvous,  Gurtha's  lady-in-wait- 
ing. Her  finger  was  pressed  against  her  lips 
in  caution,  as  she  beckoned  to  me.  Averting 
my  head,  I  bent  close  for  the  message. 

"She  is  about  to  offer  her  prayers.  As  soon 
as  she  kneels  I  will  open  the  door  for  you.  Then 
I  shall  slip  out  and  wait  for  you  here  in  the 
passage." 

My  mind  moved  quickly.  If  she  discovered 
that  I  was  an  impostor,  there  would  be  no 


Carma  249 

knowing  how  quickly  the  fat  would  be  in  the 
fire. 

"Not  here !"  I  cried.  "Go  through  the  other 
entrance.  When  I  hear  you  slam  the  door,  I 
will  come  in.  Do  not  stop  for  a  moment  after 
that.  You  must  not  see  what  happens,  and  it 
will  be  perilous  for  you  when  the  others  come." 

It  seemed  eternity  before  I  heard  the  signal ; 
then  with  cautious  fingers  I  turned  the  knob 
and  paused  in  the  doorway. 

There  was  no  light  save  that  which  fell  upon 
her  from  the  tapers  on  the  shrine.  She  knelt 
with  uplifted  face  and  her  hands  clasped  in  sup- 
plication. Her  hair,  unloosened,  poured  in  a 
gleaming  glory  to  the  floor,  and  cloaked  her 
-figure  from  my  eyes.  In  her  face,  there  was  the 
radiance  of  an  angel,  facing  the  throne  of  God. 
All  the  heart-hunger  of  my  dreams  awakened 
at  the  vision,  and  the  desert  within  my  breast 
blossomed. 

"Make  me  worthy,  Oh  Father !"  she  prayed. 


250  The  Stolen  Throne 

"Give  me  strength  for  my  task;  teach  me  to  be 
humble  in  Thy  sight,  and  show  me  the  way  to 
Thy  kingdom.  Guide  my  hand  to  justice  and 
my  heart  to  mercy;  temper  my  pride  in  the 
crucible  of  Thine  understanding.  For,  Lord, 
I  am  but  a  woman,  and  weak  without  Thee. 
There  are  dangers  which  beset  my  way,  and 
pit-falls  before  my  stumbling  feet.  Intrigue 
and  treachery  girt  me  about.  Do  Thou  open 
mine  eyes  to  the  Truth,  and  show  me  how  I 
may  best  use  my  power.  Make  me  courageous 
and  strong  of  purpose,  that  I  may  bring  to  my 
people  fair,  prosperous  and  happy  years.  Thou 
hast  appointed  me  to  a  high  place,  and  I  am 
helpless,  save  for  the  strength  that  comes  from 
Thee.  And,  Lord,  I  beseech  Thee,  bring  for- 
giveness to  his  heart.  Teach  him  to  forget  the 
bitterness.  Guard  his  days  and  save  him  from 
danger,  for,  Lord,  I  love  him  very  dearly !" 

When  her  prayer  was  ended  she  arose,  and 
turning,  saw  me  standing  there.     In   sheer 


"/;;  her  face  there  was  the  radiance  of  an  angel 
facing  the  Throne  of  God ' ' 


Carma  251 

amazement  she  beheld  me,  nor  did  she  utter -a 
sound,  but  stood  spell-bound  at  the  sight. 
Fairer  than  any  woman  under  the  stars  was 
she.  Her  shoulders  shone  rosier  than  their 
wont,  with  the  crimson  tide  of  shame  that  dyed 
them  at  the  thought  of  my  vandal  glance. 

"Quick,  quick !  Lock  that  door  and  pull  the 
bolt!"  I  cried. 

My  ears,  attuned  to  the  imminence  of  every 
peril,  had  caught  the  swish  of  skirts,  and  with- 
out waiting  for  Gurtha,  I  ran  across  the  room 
and  myself  turned  the  key.  Immediately  there 
was  a  knocking  on  the  panel. 

"It  is  I,  my  lady ;  Carma !  Open,  in  the  name 
of  mercy,  open !" 

Gurtha's  fingers  were  fumbling  at  the  door 
before  I  could  seize  her  hand. 

"Don't!"  I  whispered,  interposing  myself, 
and  forcing  her  away. 

"How  dare  you!"  she  panted,  rubbing  her 


252  The  Stolen  Throne 

hand  against  her  robe,  as  though  to  cleanse  it 
of  the  defilement  of  my  touch. 

Then  the  realization  of  her  utter  sequestra- 
tion smote  her,  and  she  ran  across  the  room 
and  tried  to  tug  the  bell-cord.  Again  I 
thwarted  her,  but  this  time  she  contested  with 
me,  throwing  her  body  against  mine  in  the 
struggle.  She  writhed  and  twisted  so,  in  my 
grasp,  that  I  was  forced  to  use  more  of  my 
strength  than  I  wished. 

"Oh,  you  cur,  you  unspeakable  dog!"  she 
sobbed,  and  leaned  against  the  wall,  with  her 
head  buried  in  her  arms. 

"Now,  be  sensible,"  I  whispered.  "This  is 
no  time  for  weakness  or  hysteria.  Listen 
closely  to  what  I  say.  If  we  do  not  get  out  of 
the  palace  at  once,  neither  you  nor  I  will  ever 
leave  it.  The  palace-guard  has  gone  over  to 
Russia,  and  your  death  has  been  determined 
on.  You  must  not  question  or  hesitate.  We 
have  already  waited  too  long." 


Carma  253 

"Who  are  you?"  she  asked  suspiciously. 

"A  loyal  subject,  who  offers  his  life  to  save 
your  own." 

"Why  should  I  believe  you  since  you  keep 
my  woman  from  me?  Unlock  the  door  for 
Carma." 

"That  I  will  not!"  I  replied.  "For  this  hour 
/  am  master.  You  will  do  as  I  command. 
There  is  no  Duchess  of  Stromburg  to-night, 
only  a  woman  whose  need  is  great.  If  you  are 
alive  to-morrow,  you  may  deal  with  me  as  you 
see  fit,  but  realize  this:  I  am  determined  to 
carry  you  out  of  this  room  to  safety,  if  I  have 
to  bind  you  and  bring  you  away  in  my  arms." 

"Carma !    Carma !"  she  cried,  "Go  for  help !" 

"I  am  right,  you  see,"  I  said.  "No  one  an- 
swers you.  Now  do  you  understand  ?  It  was 
Carma  who  betrayed  you.  Has  it  not  occurred 
to  you,  that  I  could  not  have  entered  here  with- 
out assistance  from  this  room?  Oh,  believe 
me,  my  lady,  believe  me !  Come  to  the  light,  I 


254  The  Stolen  Throne 

will  prove  to  you  that  I  speak  the  truth.  Here 
are  the  damning  proofs  of  all  that  I  have  told 
you.  Read.  What  more  can  I  do  to  convince 
you?  Wait!" 

I  reached  into  my  holster  and  drew  my  revol- 
ver. She,  misunderstanding  the  movement 
gave  a  choking  little  cry  and  tore  at  the  throat 
of  her  robe,  baring  her  goddess  breasts.  Poor 
little,  brave  little  Duchess !  Oh,  how  my  heart 
bled  at  your  piteous  resignation !  How  I  longed 
to  strain  you  to  my  bosom  and  accolade  your 
courage  with  my  kisses ! 

"Your  Grace !"  I  murmured,  dropping  to  my 
knees,  "take  this,  and  if  you  doubt  now,  bring 
me  the  justice  which  you  think  I  merit."  She 
made  a  little  gesture  of  despair. 

"It  is  as  God  wills,"  she  said.  "I  am  in  His 
hands!" 

A  sudden  gust  of  wind  came  from  the  win- 
dow and  extinguished  the  tapers  on  the  altar, 
leaving  the  room  in  total  darkness.  I  drew 


Carma  255 

aside  the  draperies  to  let  in  the  moonlight  and, 
glancing  down,  saw  a  shadowy  group  under 
the  trees.  The  significance  of  the  sight  made 
my  heart  heavy.  The  delay  had  cost  us  dearly. 
I  did  not  know  that  she  was  standing  beside 
me,  but  when  I  looked  up  at  her  I  saw  that  she 
understood. 

"Go !"  she  said  softly.  "I  have  brought  this 
upon  myself.  Heaven  reward  your  valor  and 
fidelity!  I  cannot  sacrifice  so  brave  a  man. 
Stromburg  will  need  strong  arms  and  patriot 
hearts  to-morrow." 

"No,  my  lady!"  I  answered,  "that  I  will  not! 
I  have  found  you  in  your  peril,  and  I  will  bring 

you  out  of  it  in  safety.  Sh !"  Carma  was 

again  at  the  door.  I  drew  the  bolts  quickly 
and  opened  it.  She  was  crouched  on  her  knees, 
and  before  she  could  get  away  I  seized  her  and 
dragged  her  into  the  room. 

"Oh,  you  traitor !"  she  snarled,  as  she  tore  to 
escape. 


256  The  Stolen  Throne 

"Carma !"  cried  the  Duchess.    "Oh !     Oh !" 

"It's  a  lie,  my  lady!  Don't  believe  him;  he 
is  an  impostor." 

"Why  did  you  stay  and  listen?"  I  asked.  "I 
thought  you  had  left  with  the  other  rats." 

She  maintained  a  dogged  silence  for  awhile, 
then  faced  me  with  defiance. 

"Every  door  is  locked  from  without,"  she 
said.  "I  could  not  get  away,  or,  depend  upon 
it,  I  would  have  brought  them  here  after  you !" 

"Carma !"  I  cried,  "get  out  of  your  clothes ! 
You  must  change  with  the  Duchess.  If  you 
refuse,  I  will  tear  them  from  you  by  main 
force." 

"Not  that!  Not  that!  You  can't  mean  it !" 
she  panted  as  the  realization  of  my  plan  came 
to  her.  "Why,  they  will  come  and  think  that 
I  am  My  Lady,  and  will  kill  me  \  Oh,  take  me 
away  with  you !  Don't,  don't,  don't.  Oh,  Your 
Grace,  I  was  mad ;  I  did  not  realize  how  awful 


Carma  257 

it  would  be !  He  made  me  promise,  and  threat- 
ened to  leave  me,  and  I  love  him  so !  But  I  re- 
pent now ;  I  will  serve  you  like  a  dog  to  the  end 
of  my  days!  Only  take  me  away!"  and  she 
swooned. 

Between  us  we  managed  to  remove  her  outer 
garments  and  Gurtha  slipped  them  over  her 
boudoir  robe. 

"Your  hair,"  I  said,  "will  betray  you.  Find 
a  scarf  and  wrap  it  around  you." 

We  locked  the  one  door  from  within,  and 
then  crossed  into  the  corridor  from  which  I 
had  entered.  The  woman  had  struggled  to  her 
feet,  and  as  I  attempted  to  close  the  door,  she 
seized  it  with  her  two  hands  and  tried  to  keep 
it  open,  sobbing  all  the  while.  I  unclenched 
Tier  hold,  but  as  fast  as  I  loosened  her  grasp,  she 
clutched  the  door  again.  There  was  nothing 
else  to  do.  Life-precious  moments  were  being 
wasted.  I  smashed  her  fingers  again  with  the 
butt  of  my  revolver.  Haunted  with  her  moans 


258  The  Stolen  Throne 

of  pain  and  fright,  I  turned  the  key,  removed 
it  from  its  lock  and  left  her  there. 

We  made  our  way  down  the  passage,  but  be- 
fore we  had  proceeded  many  feet,  we  heard 
some  one  coming  toward  us.  The  footfalls 
were  irregular  and  lurching.  I  placed  Gurtha 
to  one  side,  and  hastened  forward. 

"Hello!"  a  voice  muttered  thickly.  "Why 
did  you  not  wait  down  there  as  you  promised  ? 
I  thought  you  had  gone." 

"You're  late,  Vogel,"  I  replied,  at  happy 
random.  "What  kept  you?  You  have  been 
drinking." 

"Surely,  I  have,"  he  mumbled.  "Need  a 
stimulant — Liberty  and  Russia !" 

"Everything  is  ready,"  I  assured  him. 
"Carma  grew  alarmed  at  the  delay  and  ran 
away.  She  locked  up  the  Duchess.  I  will  wait 
here  for  my  share." 

"Don't  trust  me,  eh?    Think  I  won't  divide 


Carma  259 

fairly  with  you?  All  right,  then;  come  with 
me  and  get  it  yourself !" 

"Oh,  no,  Vogel,"  I  assured  him,  "you  are 
wrong!  I  would  be  the  last  person  in  the 
world  to  doubt  your  honor !" 

"That's  right,"  he  rambled.  "Honor  of  a 
soldier  and  gentleman — never  tarnished.  Give 
me  the  key !" 

As  soon  as  he  had  proceeded  a  fair  distance 
I  seized  Gurtha's  arm  and  ran  on  with  her.  As 
we  passed  into  the  open  I  blundered  into  a 
group  of  soldiers,  the  first  of  whom  threatened 
me  with  drawn  sword. 

"The  password !"  he  demanded. 

"Liberty  and  Russia !"  He  came  nearer  and 
peered  into  Gurtha's  face. 

"Oh,  it's  the  woman/'  he  sneered,  and 
shrugged  his  shoulders.  Just  then  a  shriek  of 
terror  came  from  the  palace,  and  at  the  sound, 
the  pack  burst  into  the  passage.  No  one  noted 
that  we  remained  behind,  and  so  only  we  two 


260  The  Stolen  Throne 

saw  the  flood  of  light  that  broke  from  Gurtha's 
window. 

Then  there  came  another  cry,  the  hideous 
scream  of  a  man  who  knows  that  his  soul  has 
died  and  that  his  body  must  live. 

"Come!"  I  cried,  and  then  looked  up  to  see 
the  last  act  of  that  night's  miserable  tragedy. 
A  man  was  standing  at  the  window,  a  man 
whose  eyes  were  fixed  on  something  at  his  feet, 
and  as  we  turned,  we  saw  him  bury  his  head  in 
his  two  hands  and  sway  for  support  as  he  fell. 


"The  Grave 
That  No  Man  Finds 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


'The  Grave  That  No  Man  Finds" 

HE  Stromburg  conspiracy  died 
within  an  hour  after  it  at- 
tempted to  rear  its  ugly  head. 
Thanks  to  Antsley's  timely  in- 
tervention, what  might  have 
been  a  murderous  revolution  al- 
most proved  an  opera  bouffe  fiasco.  Burton 
and  Whitworth  did  valiant  work  in  arousing 
aid  and,  even  as  Gurtha  sped  through  the 
streets  with  me,  seeking  a  haven  for  the  night, 
the  thundering  hoofs  of  cavalry  sounded  in  the 
distance  and  the  almost  muffled  tread  of  quickly 
.marching  men,  came  to  our  ears  in  a  vague  blur 
of  sound.  The  true  extent  of  Blitzow's  in- 
fluence has  never  been  ascertained,  for  the  un- 
expected counter-move  of  the  State  against  the 
cabal,  chilled  the  ardor  of  conspiracy  in  many  a 
breast  that  had  burned  with  the  hysteria  of  re- 


264  The  Stolen  Throne 

yolt.  So  that  the  little  company  of  renegades, 
which  had  been  chosen  to  initiate  the  uprising, 
found  itself  opposed  by  a  force  of  pitiless,  men- 
acing loyalists.  When  they  heard  the  march 
of  the  soldiers,  they  had  been  deceived.  Un- 
conscious of  the  betrayal  of  their  plans,  to  them 
it  was  the  approach  of  friends  and  so  no 
thought  of  retreat  crossed  their  minds.  In- 
stead, they  broke  into  a  cheer  when  the  stars 
shone  on  the  glittering  bayonets  and  flashed 
on  the  waving  yactagans  of  the  hussars. 

It  was  not  a  fight;  it  was  barely  a  struggle; 
it  was  simply  slaughter.  They  did  not  know 
what  was  in  store  for  them  until  the  foremost 
man  in  their  ranks  leaped  into  the  air  fumbling 
at  a  hole  in  his  throat.  Then  came  the  first 
volley  and  before  they  could  draw  their 
weapons  and  with  their  half  incredulous  senses 
rally  in  the  face  of  their  assailants,  the  bayonets 
were  already  tearing  through  them  and  the 
horses  were  beating  them  to  the  ground.  The 


The  Grave  That  No  Man  Finds  265 

attacking  party  outnumbered  them  frightfully. 
At  first,  they  fought  in  two  definite  masses ;  but 
after  half  of  the  malcontents  were  down,  those 
who  were  still  unscathed  (or  who  were  whole 
enough  to  move)  threw  their  weapons  from 
them  and  ran  helter-skelter  in  any  direction 
which  promised  safety.  The  melee  changed  to 
a  hunt.  The  organized  troops  broke  from  the 
control  of  their  officers  and  an  ominous  game 
of  "hare  and  hounds"  followed.  Often  a  dozen 
men  were  in  full  cry  after  a  single  fugitive. 
And  Fate  must  have  smiled  with  a  wry  mouth 
that  night,  for  many  of  the  soldiers  who  hacked 
the  hardest  and  stabbed  the  deepest,  had 
covertly  pledged  their  allegiance  to  the  very 
cause  which  they  were  now  opposing.  It  was 
only  blind  chance  that  did  not  make  them  mem- 
bers of  the  same  pack  which  they  hunted.  They 
fought  as  wolves  fight.  And  they  showed  the 
same  cruelty  that  a  wolf  shows  when  a  weak 
brother  falls  in  the  chase. 


266  The  Stolen  Throne 

The  early  carters,  rubbing  the  sleep  from 
their  heavy  eyes,  saw  strange  things  that  morn- 
ing in  Stromburg.  Dead  men  littered  the 
streets.  Some  lay  upon  the  cobble  stones,  their 
twisted  limbs  setting  with  the  stiffening  chill 
of  death.  Some  rested  where  they  had  crouched 
in  the  hallways  of  homes.  One  boy  hung  over 
the  side  of  a  bridge,  with  a  leg  crooked  upon 
the  rail  and  his  head  bent  forward,  just  as  he 
had  been  when  a  bullet  checked  his  plunge  into 
the  Sarga. 

While  one  body  of  troops  was  rushed  to  the 
palace,  another  spread  through  the  town,  bent 
on  a  different  mission.  For  the  papers  found 
on  Helzer  were  signed  with  the  names  of  many 
unwary  men  and  seventy  of  these  were  cap-' 
tured.  The  rest  escaped  and  made  their  way 
into  the  mountains,  to  hide  there  until  a  favor- 
able opportunity  presented  itself  to  gain  the 
frontier. 

The   citizens   of   Stromburg   could   hardly 


The  Grave  That  No  Man  Finds  267 

realize  what  had  transpired,  so  complete  and 
swift  had  been  the  reprisal.  Gurtha  and  I  were 
almost  at  the  Legation  when  we  encountered 
the  chancellor  and  his  son.  Aroused  by  Whit- 
worth,  they  had  set  out  with  a  guard  to  dis- 
cover her  fate.  With  a  cry  of  relief  they  took 
her  from  my  charge  and  removed  her  to  a  place 
of  safety. 

Deeming  it  unwise  to  remain  abroad,  now 
that  she  was  out  of  danger,  I  sought  entrance 
at  the  Continental.  It  was  a  wise  judgment. 
For,  hardly  had  I  slipped  into  the  cautiously 
opened  door  when  the  square  was  overrun  with 
a  shrieking  medley  of  men.  And  I  do  not  know 
but  what,  in  the  promiscuous  fighting,  I  might 
have  met  with  serious  injury  at  the  hands  of 
some  excited  and  misguided  soldier,  had  I  ven- 
tured to  reach  the  Legation  through  their 
midst. 

Before  another  night  had  passed  the  final 
line  was  added  to  the  chapter.  An  immediate 


268  The  Stolen  Throne 

trial  had  been  given  the  captured  revolution- 
ists. The  drum-head  court  dealt  swiftly  with 
the  guilty  and  the  tidings  of  its  verdict  swept 
through  the  city  like  an  ill  wind  of  disaster. 

It  was  not  a  pretty  sight  to  see  the  seventy 
doomed  wretches  march  forth  at  dusk  with 
black  cloths  covering  their  faces  and  their 
elbows  held  tight  behind  their  backs  with 
cruelly  drawn  knots.  A  light  rain  had  been 
falling  and  the  faint  fragrance  of  bleeding 
earth  came  from  a  newly  opened  trench,  that 
gashed  the  center  of  the  parade  grounds.  A 
file  of  soldiers  was  deployed  on  either  side  of  the 
line  and  they  paced  to  the  sobbing  measure  of 
muted  drums.  After  the  seventy  came  the  regi- 
ments of  Stromburg  and  the  haggard  light  dis- 
closed a  straggling  mob  of  towns-people  in  the 
wake  of  the  soldiery — wives  and  mothers — 
sisters  and  sons — fathers  and  daughters  whose 
grief  was  a  fitting  accompaniment  to  the 
ominous  wail  of  the  drums. 


The  Grave  That  No  Man  Finds  269 

They  stood  them  on  the  edge  of  the  trench, 
these  seventy  men,  and  the  sun  slinking  down 
in  the  western  heavens,  absent-mindedly 
started  to  smile  upon  the  scene,  but  remember- 
ing, quickly  hid  his  face  behind  the  mountains. 

The  priests  offered  up  prayer.  Their  voices 
were  torn  with  woe.  On  the  outskirts  of  the 
scene,  the  fringe  of  kneeling  figures  silhouetted 
in  the  haze,  chokingly  joined  in  the  appeal  to 
God. 

The  seventy, — they  prayed  too.  But  none 
could  hear  them  for  the  distance  that  separated 
them  from  the  throng. 

It  was  an  unsteady  line  that  stood  upon  the 
edge  of  the  trench,  with  here  and  there  a  shud- 
^dering  weak  brother,  who  swayed  with  fright 
of  the  blind  future.  One  man  tottered  and 
supported  himself  against  a  comrade,  but  both 
their  hands  were  tied  and  so  he  slipped  and  fell 
down. 

When  the  prayer  ceased,  they  made  up  a 


270  The  Stolen  Throne 

firing  party,  but  first  a  corporal  took  their 
guns,  and  every  third  one  he  loaded  with 
blank  cartridges,  so  that  each  man  could  give 
himself  the  benefit  of  doubt,  if  his  conscience 
cried  against  his  acting  as  executioner. 

One  by  one,  they  shot  them  down.  So  that 
those  who  were  present  had  their  hearts  torn 
afresh  at  each  volley,  for  every  man  thus  died 
seventy  times  in  the  memory  of  his  people. 

And,  when  the  last  one  fell,  a  party  of  sap- 
pers came  and  pushed  their  bodies  into  the 
trench  and  raked  the  earth  back  over  it,  piling 
it  up  in  a  loose  mound.  Then  the  drums  sobbed 
anew  and  the  regiments  swept  into  step — first 
the  infantry,  then  the  cavalry  and  last  the 
artillery. 

Straight  on  they  marched,  drawn-faced  men 
with  hurt  souls  and  shuddering  eyes — straight 
over  the  field  they  went, — over  the  grave  itself 
— the  heels  of  the  soldiers  and  the  hoofs  of  the 
horses  and  the  wheels  of  the  cannons  and  the 


The  Grave  That  No  Man  Finds  271 

carriages,  and  when  they  passed  once,  they  re- 
formed and  marched  over  the  grave  again.  So 
that,  when  they  left  the  field,  no  one  could  tell 
where  the  grave  had  been,  for  all  the  ground 
was  now  trampled  alike. 

And  no  mother  could  come  in  after  days  and 
moan  over  the  resting  place  of  her  son's  body, 
and  no  sweetheart  could  know  where  her  lover 
lay.  And  it  was  a  good  thing  for  the  State  to 
have  it  so — to  breed  into  the  very  wombs  of  its 
women,  the  shuddering  horror  of  the  traitor's 
death  and  the  "Grave  That  No  Man  Finds." 


Wiedersehen 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

'Auf  Wiedersehen" 

IHERE  are  miseries  that  cut  a 
man's  memory  like  the  slash  of 
a  dulled  knife  and  leave  much 
the  same  brutal  scar.  One  such 
night  comes  out  of  the  sobs  of 
the  past  now  and  blots  my  page 
with  tears.  A  night  of  numb,  dumb,  aching 
travail.  A  night  built  of  a  million  clock  ticks, 
when  time  slipped  back  two  minutes,  each  time 
the  hands  spelt  one. 

I  sat  alone  with  the  fantasies  that  God  in  his 
infinite  cruelty,  sends  to  man  that  he  may 
realize  how  very  dear  was  Paradise. 

Tick,  tick,  tick,  tick !    Damn  the  noise !    How 

the  clangor  of  the  minutes  shattered  the  silence. 

I  paced  the  floor  to  their  rhythm.    My  very 

veins   caught  the   measure   and   surged   and 

pulsed  in  consonance  with  the  tumult.    I  know 


276  The  Stolen  Throne 

that  Hell  is  just  an  eternity  of  nights  as  this 
— no  peace,  no  calm — just  pain — emptiness — 
aching  and  despair. 

Oh,  the  torture  of  these  last  months.  My 
hopes  had  leaped  when  Burton  brought  me 
word  that  freedom  had  been  granted  me. 
The  proof  of  Russia's  complicity  in  the  plot  had 
nullified  her  right  to  demand  my  punishment 
and  what  misconstruction  had  been  placed  upon 
my  earlier  exploits  in  Stromburg,  was  erased 
by  the  knowledge  that  it  was  I  who  had  led 
Gurtha  to  safety.  I  waited  for  many  days,  but 
no  word  came  from  her,  until  at  last  I  was 
forced  to  realize  the  folly  of  my  dreams.  And 
so  Antsley  and  I  had  gone  away. 

We  travelled  through  the  Balkans;  we 
rambled  through  the  Caucasus;  we  hunted  in 
the  Tyrol;  but  life  was  flat  and  had  no  zest. 
Always  the  longing  to  see  her  again  gnawed 
away  at  my  peace.  In  the  end  I  had  returned, 


Auf  Wiedersehen  277 

— dominated  by  the  torturing  strain  of  my 
futile  infatuation.  And  now  that  I  was  back  to 
Stromburg,  once  more  I  knew  how  fruitless  my 
hopes  had  been.  I  saw  the  truth  in  its  naked 
cruelty.  Life  held  nothing  for  me  except  one 
drab  'to-morrow/  And  with  that  realization  I 
determined  that  I  would  leave  again  in  the 
morning.  I  would  content  myself  with  mem- 
ories of  her.  I  would  take  up  my  life  back  in 
my  own  world  of  the  commonplace;  but  still  I 
knew  that  I  would  always  have  her  image  fresh 
in  my  soul,  and  when  the  pain  gnawed  hardest 
and  my  heart  was  heavy,  I  would  make  her 
memory  a  rosary  of  consolation.  I  would  find 
.peace  in  knowing  that  I  had  come  to  her  at  her 
need,  and  not  in  vain.  After  all,  it  was  best 
that  she  did  not  know.  If  I  could  not  have  her 
heart,  I  would  not  take  her  pity,  and  so  I  sat 
with  lumpy  throat  and  tears  of  self-commisera- 
tion fighting  their  way  to  my  eyes. 


278  The  Stolen  Throne 

Burton  arose  early  and  we  took  breakfast 
together. 

"So  you're  going  back  to  London,"  he  said, 
with  a  whimsical  smile.  "I  envy  you !  There's 
only  one  London.  A  man  can  find  Paris  in  a 
half  dozen  quarters  of  the  globe,  but  you  can't 
transplant  London.  She  calls  you  back  home, 
and  your  heart  hears  the  cry,  singing  like  the 
voice  of  an  absent  sweetheart.  She's  dirty  and 
she's  murky,  and  she's  noisy,  is  London.  She's 
a  hard-headed  old  woman  and  likes  her  own 
ways,  but,  after  all's  said,  they're  best. 

"So  you'll  go  home  and  forget  the  days  you 
spent  up  here  in  the  mountains.  You'll  pound 
the  Strand  from  Waterloo  to  Oxford.  You'll 
philander  along  New  Bond  and  gaze  in  the 
shop  windows,  like  a  Cheshireman  on  his  first 
trip  to  town.  You'll  drink  your  Scotch  and 
avow  that  no  whiskey  ever  tasted  like  it,  know- 
ing all  the  while  that  you've  had  the  same  stuff 
every  day  since  you  left.  You'll  wear  damn 


Auf  Wiedersehen  279 

fool  lemon-yellow  gloves,  and  have  tea  and  but- 
ter-bread at  a  dinky  little  table  in  the  Cecil 
courtyard,  with  a  clumsy,  senemic  girl,  and  say 
blase  things,  and  wear  a  'To-let'  expression, 
and  seem  bored  to  death,  but  your  whole  being 
will  be  chortling  with  the  joy  of  home. 

"You'll  get  tangled  up  in  an  impossible  fog, 
and  swear,  and  try  to  feel  disgusted,  but  you 
wouldn't  trade  that  curtain  of  aerated  mud  for 
the  fairest  morning  that  ever  blushed  over  the 
hills  yonder. 

"You'll  drop  in  at  Pagani's  or  Simpson's  and 
eat  good  beef  and  bad  potatoes  and  an  abomin- 
able gooseberry  tart,  and  you'll  wash  it  all 
down  with  lukewarm  beer  and  wind  up  with 
coffee  that  would  make  a  Vienniese  shudder, 
but  you'll  lie  yourself  into  the  belief  that  it's 
the  first  real  food  you've  had  in  months. 

"You'll  take  in  the  Empire  Promenade,  and 
pick  up  some  flat-chested  little  Cockney  girl 


280  The  Stolen  Throne 

from  Tottingham  Court  Road.  She'll  be  com- 
moner than  dishwater,  sans  h's  and  finesse,  but 
she's  a  part  of  London,  and  so  you'll  waste  the 
evening  with  her. 

"She  only  loans  us  to  the  rest  of  the  world, 
does  mother  London,  but  she  holds  our  hearts 
and  our  memories  in  pledge,  and  sometimes  we 
die,  but  mostly  we  come  home  and  reclaim 
them." 

"Burton,"  I  sighed,  "You  don't  know!  One 
can  see  that  you  have  never  been  in  love." 

"A  hundred  times,"  he  answered,  "and  each 
time  it  was  worse  than  before.  This  love  busi- 
ness travels  on  a  geometrical  ratio — the  last 
i 

case  always  carries  the  compounded  interest  of 
the  others.  It's  a  fine  thing  for  the  heart, 
though;  exercises  and  strengthens  it.  The 
throbs  give  the  muscles  plenty  of  play  and  de- 
velopment It's  like  boxing;  the  harder  you're 
slugged,  the  easier  you  find  it  to  stand  up  to  the 
next  ripping  smash." 


Auf  Wiedersehen  2  8 1 

He  smiled  at  me,  and  patted  me  on  my  shoul- 
der. Then  his  tone  altered. 

"I  know  you're  hard  hit,  old  chap,  but  you'll 
pull  through.  It's  the  wisest  thing  in  the  world, 
what  you're  doing.  I  am  glad  that  you  are  leav- 
ing. This  pretender  business  put  you  into  a 
theatrical  frame  of  mind,  and  your  perspective 
has  been  a  bit  sentimental,  just  now.  When 
you  get  away  from  the  stage  setting,  you'll  feel 
like  the  actor  after  he  leaves  the  playhouse  be- 
hind him — glad  to  be  real  again.  There,  I 
must  be  off!  I'll  see  you  awhile  after  lunch- 
eon!" 

When  he  left,  I  went  to  my  room  and  got  at 
my  packing.  This  was  soon  finished,  and  as 
there  were  some  trifles  that  I  required  for  the 
journey  I  went  into  town,  but  soon  returned. 
Passing  into  the  house,  I  noted  in  a  casual 
manner  that  a  brougham  was  drawn  up  at  the 
porte-cochere. 


282  The  Stolen  Throne 

Alward,  Burton's  man,  came  to  me  in  the 
hall. 

"A  lady  is  waiting  to  see  you,  sir,"  he  said, 
and  pointed  to  the  drawing-room. 

Handing  him  my  hat  and  gloves,  I  drew 
aside  the  draperies,  and  found  a  veiled  woman 
sitting  with  her  back  towards  me.  As  she  did 
not  turn  at  my  entrance,  I  crossed  to  her  and 
asked  to  what  I  was  indebted  for  the  honor  of 
her  presence.  For  answer  she  lifted  her  veil. 

"Youl"  I  cried,  and  stood  and  stared.  A 
thousand  speeches  rushed  to  my  lips  and  lost 
themselves  on  the  threshold  of  utterance.  At 
last  my  tardy  senses  regained  their  sanity,  and 
I  knelt.  But  she  took  my  hand  and  commanded 
me  to  rise. 

"You  must  not  kneel  to  me,"  she  said.  "A 
brave  man  should  bend  his  knees  to  no  one  save 
his  God.  I  know  all  that  you  have  done  for  me. 
I  realize  my  debt  to  you.  Why  did  you  leave 
before  I  could  come  and  acknowledge  the  obli- 


Auf  Wiedersehen  283 

gation  ?  It  was  a  cruel  thing.  It  has  made  me 
suffer  shame  all  these  months.  It  is  not  the 
Duchess  of  Stromburg  who  has  come  to  you. 
I  have  left  the  crown  and  the  tinsel  of  state 
back  there  on  the  throne  with  vanity  and  royal 
pride.  When  I  learned  of  your  return  I  de- 
termined to  see  you  at  once ;  to  come  as  women 
come  to  men  to  whom  they  owe  much.  And 
you  must  understand  me  so  and  forget  who  and 
what  I  am." 

"I  cannot  ever  forget,"  I  answered  her,  "nor 
ever  wish  to,  for  I  shall  have  this  memory  of 
your  graciousness,  and  I  would  again  endure 
all  the  unrequited  love  for  the  sake  of  this  hour. 
I  shall  be  content  to  think  that  I  have  done  a 
-service  to  your  cause  and  in  that  shall  find  my 
happiness.  I  realize  that  you  are  as  utterly  be- 
yond my  arms  as  the  highest  star  in  Heaven, 
but  I  have  always  loved  you  and  always  shall, 
wherever  I  shall  be,  wherever  you  shall  be." 

"Ah!"  and  she  looked  away,  "if  I  were  a 


284  The  Stolen  Throne 

man,  and  I  loved,  I  would  let  nothing,  nothing, 
neither  rank  nor  power,  stand  between  me  and 
my  heart's  yearning.  I  would  master  circum- 
stance, scale  the  mountains  of  privilege,  be  as 
patient  as  the  rocks,  and  only  surrender  to 
death!" 

"My  Lady,"  I  said,  "there  was  a  time  when 
I  would  have  wrested  the  sceptre  from  your 
hand  and  dragged  you  from  the  throne  because 
it  would  have  brought  you  nearer  to  me,  and 
made  me  your  peer.  I  would  have  humbled 
you  in  the  dust,  and  covered  your  heart  with 
bruises,  so  that  I  might  come  after  and  wash 
away  the  hurt  with  my  tears,  and  take  away  the 
bruises  with  my  kisses.  I  swore  to  God,  and  to 
myself,  that  I  would  mount  the  throne  of 
Stromburg,  and  then  lift  you  back  beside  me, 
my  Queen!  I  wanted  power  because  power 
meant  you.  It  was  always  you.  Nothing  could 
have  stayed  me.  But  it  was  a  dream !" 


Auf  Wiedersehen  285 

"A  dream!"  was  the  murmured  reply. 
"Why?" 

"Because,  without  your  love,  there  could  be 
nothing  for  me,  and  when  I  learned  that  your 
love  was  given,  I  could  only  lay  everything  at 
your  feet,  in  token  of  my  devotion,  and  go." 

"Because  you  knew  my  love  was  given  ?"  she 
repeated.  "How  did  you  know  ?" 

"I  heard  it  from  your  lips,  as  you  knelt  in 
prayer  and  cried  out  the  truth  to  God !" 

She  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  her 
form  shook  with  emotion.  The  sight  of  her 
pity  cut  me  cruelly.  But  she  soon  mastered 
herself  and  looked  up  with  a  strange  smile. 

"Dreams,  dreams !"  she  murmured,  and  sang 
••to  herself  a  snatch  from  a  French  chansonette: 
"L' amour  est  un  reve, 
Et  le reve  c'est  une  rose" 

I  led  her  to  the  door  and  pressed  her  un- 
gloved hand  in  parting.  Then  I  conducted  her 
to  her  carriage. 


286 


The  Stolen  Throne 


"Good-bye,  My  Lady !"  I  whispered  hoarsely. 

"Is  it  not  auf  wiedersehenf"  she  queried, 
smiling.  But  I  turned  away  and  would  not 
look  back. 


The  End 
of  the  Dream 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


'The  End  of  the  Dream." 

[HERE'S  the  frontier,"  pointed 
Whitworth  through  the  win- 
dow. "See  that  tower  rising 
beyond  the  trees?  You  will 
have  to  wait  two  hours  there 
for  your  connection.  The  hun- 
dred and  three  miles  of  the  great  Stromburg 
Railway  system  end  at  this  junction,  and  so 
do  I.  I  don't  know  what  we  shall  do  to  keep  up 
an  interest  in  life  after  you  are  gone.  You 
have  set  such  a  ripping  pace  for  events !  Need- 
less to  say,  how  much  I  shall  miss  you  both. 

"But  you  will  come  back  again  to  see  us  in 
the  fall,  when  the  hunting  opens.  I  met  a  chap 
last  week  who  has  an  estate  up  in  these  moun- 
tains. He  tells  me  that  it  is  teeming  with  deer, 
and  game  and  wild  boar.  He  wants  me  to  visit 
him  in  October.  I'll  have  him  include  you,  if 


290  The  Stolen  Throne 

you  make  up  your  minds  to  run  over.  His 
preserves  are  near  the  Royal  Forests.  Gurtha 
herself  is  an  enthusiastic  huntswoman. 

"I  once  saw  her  take  a  boar,  single-handed. 
Dashed  at  him  like  a  lancer,  and  caught  him  at 
the  first  thrust.  Still,  he  almost  did  for  her. 
It  was  like  this.  The  tusker  was  an  old  brute 
and  as  savage — well,  as  a  boar !  We  found  his 
spoor  early  in  the  morning,  but  it  was  noon 
before  we  came  up  to  him.  He  had  ripped  two 
of  the  hounds  cruelly,  and  the  rest  of  the  pack 
were  pretty  well  cowed.  Gurtha  would  have  it 
no  other  way,  but  that  we  should  hold  back 
and  let  her  take  him  alone.  As  I  said,  she 
managed  to  stick  him,  but  her  lance  cleft  right 
into  his  shoulder  and  stuck  there,  and  as  she 
had  taken  him  at  full  tilt,  the  impetus  wrenched 
her  from  the  saddle  and  threw  her  right  in  his 
track.  Before  we  could  reach  the  spot,  she  had 
darted  back  of  a  tree,  escaped  his  first  rush, 
and  then,  I'll  be  hanged  if  she  didn't  go  for 


The  End  of  the  Dream  191 

him  on  foot  and  finish  him  with  the  knife !  Oh, 
she's  thoroughbred!  There  isn't  a  yellow 
streak  in  her  nature.  She  fights  for  things  and 
she  gets  them.  All  heaven  and  hell  can't  make 
her  change,  if  she's  determined  on  a  thing. 
Her  father  was  such,  before  her.  He  might 
have  had  the  Roumanian  throne,  but  he  would 
not  marry  the  woman  Russia  picked  out.  He 
found  his  wife  among  the  people,  and  when  the 
Church  began  to  talk  morganatic  rot,  and  the 
flubdub  of  divine  blood,  there  were  strenuous 
days  in  the  clerical  camp.  They  kicked  like 
mules  and  hawed  about  precedent.  "Well,"  he 
told  them,  "if  you  can't  find  a  precedent  for  me, 
I!ll  make  one  for  you."  He  won  his  point,  lost 
Roumania  and  found  his  happiness.  Gurtha 
is,  to  my  mind,  the  ablest  woman  in  Europe  to- 
day, as  well  as  the  most  obstinate.  Why,  there 
isn't  a  man  on  the  Continent  who  could  have 
squelched  last  winter's  treason  as  ably  as  she 
dealt  with  it.  I  sometimes  wonder  what  sort  of 


The  Stolen  Throne 


a  marriage  she'll  make.  They  haven't  been  able 
to  please  her  up  to  now,  although  the  royal  hus- 
band-market has  offered  pretty  much  its  entire 
assortment  for  her  inspection." 

The  train  had  by  this  time  snailed  its  way 
into  the  terminal.  "Be  sure  that  you  get  every- 
thing," warned  Antsley.  "What's  that  up  in 
the  rack?" 

"Doesn't  belong  to  me,"  I  answered. 

"I'm  sure  it  isn't  mine,"  he  said.  "See  what 
it  is!" 

I  took  down  the  parcel.  It  was  long  and 
light.  To  my  utter  surprise,  my  name  was  on 
the  wrapper.  At  that  moment  our  porter  came 
and  said  that  the  inspector  was  ready  to  go 
through  our  baggage.  Beyond  a  few  boxes  of 
matches  and  a  flask  of  brandy,  he  found  noth- 
ing dutiable  among  my  belongings,  so  I  knelt  to 
lock  my  trunk,  placing  the  unopened  parcel  on 
top. 

"Wfiat's  this?"  tKe  official  asked,  taking  it  in 


The  End  of  the  Dream  293 

his  hands.  He  cut  the  strings  and,  removing 
the  paper,  produced  an  exquisitely  carved  box. 
Within  lay  a  single  rose. 

"Ah!"  he  exclaimed,  "it  is  from  Marga's 
Gardens.  To-night  all  Stromburg  will  come 
and  gather  such  as  this." 

I  strained  the  gorgeous  thing  to  my  nostrils. 
Its  fragrance  was  heavy  with  the  spell  of  vis- 
ions. I  saw  her  again,  twining  roses  in  her 
hair.  She  smiles  upon  me.  She  tears  a  bud 
from  out  of  the  garland  and  tosses  it  to  my 
eager  hands.  She  lies  struggling  in  my  arms, 
and  her  lips  are  crushed  to  mine. 

And  now  a  year  has  gone,  and  to-night  she 
will  come  again,  and  I  shall  not  be  there  to  see 
the  glory  of  her  loveliness.  It  has  all  been  a 
dream,  this  year  in  Stromburg,  a  dear,  wild, 
bitter-sweet  whimsy.  Still,  this  rose  is  no 
fantasy.  Whose  hand  has  plucked  and  sent  it 
to  me  ?  I  examine  the  box — and  start.  It  bears 
the  royal  arms.  But  what  is  this,  nestling  in 


294  The  Stolen  Throne 

the  petals  of  the  flower?    I  draw  forth  a  slip 
of  paper.    It  bears  a  verse : 

He  hurled  the  rose 
The  dragon  paused 
'Beside  the  River  Sarga. 
"What  wilt,  from  me 
"For  this?"  cried  she. 
"A  kiss,  my  Lady  Margaf" 

Some  one  is  calling  to  me,  but  I  do  not  hear. 

"Wake  up ;  stop  dreaming !" 

"Go  away !"  I  cry ;  "I  don't  want  the  dream 
to  stop." 

"The  train  is  going  back  to  Stromburg,  and 
Whitworth  wants  to  say  good-bye." 

"Back  to  Stromburg !"  I  murmur  in  a  mist ; 
"yes,  that  where  I'm  going !" 

Some  one  tugs  at  my  sleeve. 

"So  long,  old  chap !  I  must  dig  for  it,  God 
bless  you,  and  come  back  soon  I" 


The  End  of  the  Dream  295 

Whitworth  is  on  his  way  across  tHe  train- 
shed.  He  darts  into  an  open  compartment. 
The  porter  slams  the  door.  The  engine  gives  a 
shriek.  I  take  a  firmer  grasp  upon  the  rose. 
Its  thorns  press  into  my  hands,  but  I  do  not 
feel  the  pain. 

One  by  one  the  doors  are  being  locked. 

"Wait !"  I  cry,  and  leap  into  a  carriage.  The 
axles  creak,  the  wheels  grind ;  some  one,  away 
in  the  distance  is  calling  my  name  and  gesticu- 
lating madly  on  the  receding  platform.  I 
smile. 

I  am  going  back  to  Stromburg,  back  without 
Antsley — without  luggage.  But  I  do  not  care. 
I  am  going  back  with  a  rose. 

The  afternoon  is  soon  gone.  Dusk  steals 
over  the  fields.  The  green  hills  are  blushed 
with  purple.  Night  is  calling  the  stars  to 
awaken.  One  by  one  they  fall  into  their  setting. 
The  moon  shifts  out  from  a  fluffy  cloud  and 


296  The  Stolen  Throne 

sails  a  thousand  miles  across  the  heavens.  The 
Sarga  ripples  against  her  banks.  Stromburg 
sprawls  out  of  the  distance. 

The  axles  creak.  The  wheels  grind.  The 
door  of  my  carriage  is  unlocked.  A  porter 
asks  for  my  luggage.  I  gravely  tender  him  a 
rose. 

I  rattle  through  the  town,  up  the  hillside,  past 
the  Continental,  out  of  the  Square.  The  streets 
are  thronged.  The  crowd  moves  in  one  direc- 
tion. It  winds  its  way  through  the  gates  of  a 
garden.  There  is  music  and  there  is  song,  and 
untold  roses  are  baring  their  hearts  for  the 
kiss  of  night. 

But  there  are  two  roses,  rarer  than  the  keys 
of  heaven.  One  is  red,  and  I  hold  it  in  my 
hand.  One  is  white,  and  the  moon  is  fondling 
her,  in  sheer  joy  of  her  beauty. 

"The  old  dreams  have  come  back !"  I  cry,  and 
fall  upon  the  grass  beside  her.  "Do  you  under- 


The  End  of  the  Dream  297 

stand,  you  beautiful,  wonderful  woman,  the  old 
dreams?  Can  you  realize  how  like  a  goddess 
you  are  to  my  eyes?  The  same  light  is  on  your 
hair,  the  same  unutterable  loveliness  is  in  your 
face,  and  in  the  glow  of  your  eyes  is  the  spark 
that  lighted  the  eternal  fires  of  love !" 

She  smiles.  "Why,  it's  the  troubadour  come 
back  again.  Where  is  your  lute,  and  what  new 
songs  have  you  learned  in  the  year?" 

"Lady,  my  lute  is  your  heart,"  I  answer, 
"and  the  only  song  that  I  have  learned,  is  the 
first  song  that  the  first  man  sang  to  the  first 
woman,  when  God  jewelled  the  first  day — '/ 
love  you!' ' 

"A  short  refrain!" 

"It  never  ends,  and  lovers  find  it  ever  new." 

"Yet  it  lacks  variety." 

"Not  so,  for  each  time  the  heart  hears  it  with 
a  different  ear,  and  then  forgets  and  strains 
again  to  hear  the  ever  unfamiliar  melody." 


298  The  Stolen  Throne 

"True,  perhaps,  for  a  day !" 

"Love  laughs  at  time." 

"What  if  this  lute,  which  you  speak,  is  still 
unstrung?"  she  questions. 

"Turn  your  eyes  to  mine,  and  let  me  learn !" 
I  plead. 

"What  may  you  learn  there  ?" 

"The  song  of  your  soul." 

"Awhile  ago  you  said  it  was  my  heart  I" 

"A  woman's  heart  and  soul  are  one."  She 
leans  nearer,  and  lifts  her  face.  "Read !"  she 
commands. 

"I  do  not  dare!" 

"And,  pray,  why  not?" 

"For  fear,  that  seeking  heaven,  I  may  ven- 
ture hell!" 

"I  have  heard  there  is  no  love  in  hell." 

"No,"  I  say,  "there  is  only  hell  in  love!" 

"And  where  lies  heaven?" 

"Love  is  heaven." 


The  End  of  the  Dream  299 

"Strange,"  she  murmurs,  "love  is  heaven, 
and  love  is  hell !" 

"Just  so,"  I  answer,  "love  is  heaven  and 
hell." 

"But  why  do  you  fear  to  learn  ?" 

"Because,"  I  whisper,  "I  would  not  'waken 
from  the  dream.  Because  to-night,  I  dare  for- 
get who  you  are.  To-morrow  the  petals  of  my 
hopes  will  fall  and  strew  the  ground,  as  all  the 
roses  here.  Now  it  will  be  harder.  Could  you 
not  have  spared  me  this?  I  knew  that  it  was 
madness,  but  I  came,  and  to-morrow  I  shall  go, 
and  never,  never  see  you  again !" 

"Love  is  a  dream,  and  the  dream  is  a  rose !" 
she  murmurs  to  herself. 

A  youth  comes  into  the  moonlight  and  stops 
before  us. 

"What  shall  I  sing  for  you?"  he  asks. 

"Of  love  and  of  roses,"  I  answer. 

"They  are  one,"  he  laughs,  and  he  fingers  his 
strings. 


300  The  Stolen  Throne 

"Love  is  a  flower,  a  passioned  rose, 

Trembling  with  the  dew, 

Sweet  and  fair,  of  fragrance  rare, 

That  was  the  love  I  knew! 

And  so  I  made  my  heart  a  shrine, 

To  hold  it  dear  forefer, 

For  love  is  a  rose,  and  the  wide  world  knows 

That  the  rose  blossoms  everywhere! 

"But  beware  of  the  thorns  of  the  rose. 

Every  rose  has  its  thorn, 

And  love  is  a  rose, 

W 'hen  its  beauty. is  gone, 

Then  its  cruelty  shows, 

And  it  sinks  in  the  heart. 

Rends  and  tears  it  apart, 

Oh,  beware  of  the  thorns  of  the  rose!" 

"Now  you  know  why  I  would  not  look  into 
your  eyes!"  I  whisper.  She  does  not  answer. 

"Because,"  I  continue,  "I  feared  to  seek  the 
rose  and  find  the  thorn!" 


The  End  of  the  Dream  301 

"I  prayed  that  God  would  take  the  bitterness 
away,"  she  whispers.  "Now  do  you  under- 
stand— now  do  you  fear  to  know  ?" 

I  draw  her  to  me.    "I  want  to  see  your  eyes !" 

Her  face  is  near  to  mine,  and  her  warm, 
young  breath  is  hot  upon  me. 

"It  is  a  dream,"  I  murmur. 

"It  was  never  a  dream !"  she  replies. 

"And  so  you  prayed  for  me!"  I  say,  "and  I 
was  there  and  did  not  know !  I  heard  you  tell 
your  love,  and  my  heart  did  not  hear.  I  saw 
the  light  in  your  eyes,  and  I  was  blind.  When 
did  you  know  ?" 

"Always!"  is  her  reply.  "For  a  year  is 
sometimes  always,  and  it  is  now  a  year.  I 
sought  to  deny  the  truth,  but  my  heart  always 
knew  the  lie.  I  tried  to  hate  you,  and  when  I 
hurt  you  most,  I  loved  you  all  the  more.  I 
;  wished  to  forget,  and  only  remembered.  You 
are  the  best  and  truest  lover  in  the  world!  I 
would  be  a  thing  to  be  despised  did  I  deny  you ! 


302  The  Stolen  Throne 

I  would  have  a  heart  of  stone  had  I  closed  my 
breast  to  your  devotion!  I  have  tried  you 
cruelly,  and  I  have  heaped  wrong,  suffering 
and  insult  on  you,  but  you  gave  me  love  and  de- 
votion and  sacrifice  in  return.  Dear  heart, 
take  me  to  you,  and  hold  me,  for  I  have  been 
lonely  so  long!" 

A  voice  sings  in  the  distance : 

"Thus  came  the  foyance  of  the  rose, 

Beside  the  River  Sarga, 

When  royal  miss  a  lout  may  kiss, 

As  once  did  Lady  Marga, 

And  none  may  say 

A  word  of  nay, 

For  thus  kissed  Princess  Marga!" 

The  singer  stands  before  us  as  he  ends,  and 
when  he  strikes  the  last  chord,  he  bends  and 
gathers  a  handful  of  petals  from  the  ground 
and  rains  them  upon  our  heads. 


The  End  of  the  Dream 


303 


"Kiss  her,  lad !"  he  cries,  "Tis  Lady  Marga's 
Day,  and  to-morrow  you  may  not !" 
But  he  does  not  know. 


A    000  1 1 1  1 52    5 


